


Eyes Like Broken Christmas Lights

by Pippin



Series: Make It a Good One [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, LGBT characters, M/M, Nonbinary Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-05-14 13:17:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 42,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5745304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pippin/pseuds/Pippin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another college AU.  Alexander Hamilton is a transfer student with a wealth of secrets.  John Laurens is a more mundane student, but he's head over heels for Alexander.  They'll make it work somehow, even with everyone trying to bring Alexander down.  But when things go more wrong than they could have ever imagined, everything they know and love is challenged.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

To be perfectly honest, John had no idea why Aaron Burr, of all people, was on the debate team.  The two were roommates, and so John could reliably say that Aaron never had any opinions on anything, or, if he did, he never shared them in any form.  His life motto, as proclaimed by a neatly handwritten poster on their wall, was “Talk less, smile more.”  And yet there he was at every debate meeting.

John supposed that it could be because he didn’t really have to argue his own opinions, exactly.  They were always assigned one side or the other of the debate topic for the meeting, and even if they didn’t agree with the position, they still had to argue it.  John had ended up contradicting his own beliefs on many topics because of that, which he hated, but, he had to admit, it was great for his debating skills.

It was the first meeting of the second semester, and there was a lot of griping about the weather outside—a foot of snow, and absolutely frigid out.  The coat rack outside the room was covered in warm clothes.

“Pair up and I’ll come around and give you your topics,” the team captain called.  No one called him by his first name, possibly because he was just such a great leader—of the student council in addition to the debate team—that no one could make themselves treat him like just another student.  As such, he was Washington to everyone, and never George.

John’s friend Angelica grabbed him by the arm and pulled him off to be her debate partner for the day.

“Thomas isn’t here,” John said, glancing around the room.  “James is, but Thomas isn’t.  That’s odd.”

“I think that his new roommate’s moving in today,” Angelica replied.  “Maybe he’ll show up late.”

John wrinkled his nose.  Thomas was a great debater, but he was hard to get along with.  He always had to be right, and he would resort to personal attacks to get his way, though never while debating for the team, since that would get him docked points.  John and all his friends hated Thomas.

Halfway through the meeting Thomas finally wandered in, trailed by a slight dark-haired boy—the most gorgeous boy that John had ever seen.  He glanced over at Angelica to see what she thought, and her face seemed more or less mimic what John was thinking.

“Is this your new roommate, Thomas?” Washington asked.

Before Thomas could say anything, the boy stepped forward.  “Alexander Hamilton, sir.” He offered his hand to Washington, who looked momentarily taken aback, but shook it anyway.  “I’m a transfer student.” 

There was the slightest trace of an accent in his speech, but he seemed to be trying to hide it.  John glanced over at Angelica.  Not only was he a transfer student, but he also seemed to be an international student, and ashamed of the fact.

“Do you have any debate experience?”

Alexander frowned.  “There wasn’t enough…interest for a debate team.” 

The hesitation was barely there, but it still caught John’s attention.  He found himself wanting very strongly to break down the walls that Alexander was hiding behind, wanting to let him know that there was nothing to be ashamed of.

Washington nodded, looking around.  “Schuyler, Laurens, work with…Hamilton, was it?  Work with Hamilton, teach him the ropes.”

Thomas had already rushed over to James, seeming not to care in the slightest what happened to his new roommate.  As Alexander headed over to John and Angelica, Thomas murmured, loud enough for the room to hear, “full ride.”

That was telling, since it meant that whatever Alexander’s past was, it hadn’t left him with enough money to afford a college education.  It also meant that he was incredibly intelligent, but that wasn’t what people would remember.

Alexander flushed angrily, but didn’t retort, except for something hissed under his breath, only audible because of how close he was to John.  “ _Unno kno who e tis u a play wit u kno_.”

John glanced quickly at Angelica, but she shook her head.  _Ignore it_.  Alexander seemed to be ashamed of his roots, so he wouldn’t want to be asked any questions.

“I’m Angelica Schuyler, and this is John Laurens,” Angelica said cheerfully, grinning at Alexander.  “I’m a senior, and John’s a freshmen.  I’m assuming that you’re a freshman, too, since you’re rooming with Thomas.”

Alexander nodded, frowning.  “I can’t stand him.”

Angelica laughed.  “Join the club.  Do you know anyone other than him yet?”

“Well, I know the two of you.  That’s it, though.  I only just moved in.”

“There’s a bunch of us meeting up at the coffee shop just off campus after the meeting is over.  Do you want to join us, unless John’s horribly opposed?”

“I don’t mind in the slightest,” John assured Alexander.

“Then I would love to.”

* * *

The meeting went well.  Alexander clearly had no experience, but he had passion and he was very eloquent, as long as he could keep his temper in check.  After Washington dismissed them, Angelica and John were soon ready to get going to meet the others.  Alexander, however, took a bit longer.  He was wearing enough layers to completely hide his slight frame, turning him into a marshmallow. 

Angelica giggled.  “Got enough layers there?”

“I’m not used to the cold.”

“Oh?”

But Alexander shut up for pretty much the first time since having been introduced to Angelica and John, refusing to say any more.  Touchy subject, then.

John raised an eyebrow at Angelica, who shrugged.

“Let’s get going, then.”

* * *

The coffee shop was small and cozy, a locally owned business, and John’s favorite place to go when he was on campus.  The rest of their group of friends was huddled around a few tables pushed together, and Eliza waved cheerfully when she saw them.

“We brought a new student along,” Angelica said, perching on Eliza’s lap until she shoved her sister off.  “Everyone, this is Alexander Hamilton.  He’s Thomas Jefferson’s new roommate.”  There was sounds of sympathy from the assembled group.  “Alexander, this is everyone.  My sisters, Peggy and Eliza, Lafayette, and Mulligan.  You already know John, of course.”

“Il est mignon,” Lafayette murmured.  “Je frapperais que, si je ne dois quelqu'un à la maison. Il est trop adorable. Et il est dans un débat avec vous deux? Puis intelligent, trop.”  John blushed.  Lafayette was exactly right, but John didn’t want to discuss it in front of the adorable new kid.

Interestingly, Alexander blushed as well.  “Es-tu français? Je ne suis pas, mais je sais que la langue,” he managed to get out.

Mulligan groaned.  “Great.  Now there’s three of them.”

“Oui,” Lafayette said.  John figured they had responded in French just to irk Mulligan.  “I’m a foreign student.”

“And Laf’s non-binary,” Angelica announced.  “They pronouns, since they won’t tell you themselves.  They’re too used to getting mocked for the gender thing.  If you’re going to do that or if you have anything against the LGBT+ community, get out now.  The only one of us who’s straight is Mulligan.”

John sighed.  Angelica always did this with new people.  They were all out and proud, so it wasn’t like she was outing them against their will, but he did wish that she wouldn’t make such a big deal about it.  Of course, he was already hoping that Alexander was gay, and this would be one way to find out, but still.

“I’d be a goddamn hypocrite if I had anything against it,” Alexander said fierily.  “Hard to hate the community when you’re bi yourself.”

Lafayette kicked John under the table, and John stood suddenly, needing to get away from Laf’s teasing.  “I’m going to go order.  Angelica, Alexander, coming?”

Angelica stood, but Alexander shook his head, the blush returning.

“Come on,” John wheedled.  “They have the best coffee, and their apple cake is to die for.”

Alexander shook his head again, and John remembered Thomas’s “full ride” taunt.  He would bet that Alexander didn’t have money for stuff like that.

“Dude.  It’s my treat.  A sort of ‘welcome to campus’ thing.  We’ve got to get you to like us _somehow_.”  He grinned, and Alexander mirrored the expression.

“So you’re resorting to bribery?”

“Yup!” John said cheerfully, grabbing Alexander’s hand and dragging him to the counter.

They returned a few minutes later with their coffees and cakes.

“Okay, so we need to do proper introductions,” Angelica said.  “I was thinking name, year, major, sexual orientation—since we’re mostly all LGBT+, and, honestly, I’m nosy—pronouns, and where you’re from.  I’ll start.  I’m Angelica Schuyler, a senior, I’m majoring in hospitality, I’m gay, she/her, and I’m from Brooklyn.”

“Eliza Schuyler, sophomore, English, bi, she/her, and also from Brooklyn.”

Peggy sighed, and John laughed.  “I’m the youngest Schuyler sister.  Peggy.  I’m a freshman majoring in intel.  I’m ace and aro, she or they—I’m demigirl, so I don’t care between those two—and, in case those two being my sisters didn’t give it away, I am _also_ from Brooklyn.”

“Hercules Mulligan, but everyone calls me Mulligan.  Make any mythology jokes and I’ll hurt you.”  He winked, giving away the humor in his nature.  He hated being called Hercules or anyone referencing the story behind the name, but he wouldn’t actually hurt anyone.  “I’m a junior and a fashion major—and don’t comment on that, either.  I’m the token straight friend, since usually people talk about the token gay friend, he/him, and am from Manhattan.  Bit of a rougher neighborhood than the Schuyler girls, for all we actually live pretty close together.”

“Oui, we get it, you’re a ruffian,” Lafayette jibed.  “My name is long, so really all you need to worry about is that I go by Lafayette or Laf.  Sophomore history major, pan, they/them, and, in case you didn’t notice yet, I’m French.”

John glanced over at Alexander before he spoke.  The smaller boy was watching faces intently, looking to be soaking in the information.

“I’m John Laurens.  Freshman, poli-sci major, gay, he/him, and I’m from Charleston, South Carolina.”

Alexander seemed to be surprised that it was his turn.  “I’m Alexander Hamilton.  Freshman.  I’m double majoring in poli-sci and pre-law, with a minor in English.”

“Damn,” someone murmured.  John was pretty sure that it was Mulligan.

“I’m bi and he/him.”  He took a bite of cake, implying that he was done talking.

“Where are you from?” Angelica asked.

“Not important,” Alexander said.  “All that matters is that there’s a million things I haven’t done.”

Angelica looked like she wasn’t about to take that as an answer.  “Okay.  You said you’re from somewhere that doesn’t get cold, which takes out a good chunk of the country.  You also have a bit of an accent, so I’d say that you’re actually an international student.  I don’t know what the hell it was that you said when Thomas said what he did, but it definitely wasn’t English, even though some words sounded familiar—I’d say a form of creole?  We’ve already established that you’re not from inside the country, so…Caribbean?”

“I said that it’s not important,” Alexander said coldly.

“There’s no reason to hide where you’re from,” Angelica said.  “It’s not like we’re going to judge you.  And the Caribbean?  That’s kind of cool.  Well, warm, but you know what I mean.”

Alexander stood abruptly.  “I’ve got to get going.”

He hurried out of the coffee shop, leaving behind the remnants of his coffee and cake.

“Good job, Angelica,” Peggy said softly.  “You’ve scared him off.  And John liked him a lot.”  She got up and vanished, a particular talent of hers.

“I wouldn’t call that ‘scaring him off,’” Mulligan corrected.  “You made him mad.  And we all liked him, not just John.  Although maybe not in the same way as John.  Regardless, that was a shitty move, Angie.”

“Don’t call me Angie.  You know I hate it.”

“Okay, but, Angie, you—”

“I said don’t call me Angie!”

“And Alexander said that where he was from wasn’t important.  He didn’t want you digging into his background.  It’s not quite the same, digging and calling you a nickname you hate, but I think that you get the general gist.” 

Angelica looked slightly taken aback.  “I didn’t even really think all that through, honestly.  Like I said, I’m nosey.  And I’m not used to something as simple as home being a trouble.”

“You’ve got to remember that not everyone had the same upbringing as us, Angelica,” Eliza said.  “I thought that you would know that by now.”

“I do know that,” Angelica snipped back.  “But at least most people are willing to talk about it.”

John zoned out, not really interested in the bickering between the sisters.  He just hoped that Alexander was okay.  He had seemed very upset when he had left, and John wasn’t sure how well Alexander knew the campus, so he was just praying that he made it back to his dorm and didn’t get lost or do anything stupid.

And he really hoped that he would get to see Alexander again, and that they would still get along.  Because he was realizing that he was really falling for Alexander Hamilton.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Classes begin, punches are thrown, and secrets are revealed.

None of the group saw Alexander for the next three days.  But, as luck would have it, Alexander turned out to be in John’s first class, and, even more luckily, both boys were several minutes early, giving John time to talk to him.

“Do you mind if I sit here?”

Alexander glanced up at John, shrugged, and looked back to his textbook without so much as a good morning or any other greeting.

That stung a bit, not that John would ever admit it.

He fell into his seat, pulling out a notebook and pen.  “Listen, I’m sorry about Angelica.  She’s not exactly used to boundaries.”

“Peggy told me pretty much the same thing,” Alexander said without looking up.  “She followed me out to apologize, more than I can say for any of the rest of you.”

Oh.  Alexander’s attitude suddenly made more sense.

“I can’t speak for any of the others, but I can tell you that I really didn’t know what to do.  When I’m upset I like to be left alone, and I thought that maybe you were the same.  Alexander, I like you a lot, and I want to be your friend.  May I try again?”

Alexander glanced up.  “Of course.  Just don’t pry, okay?  If I say that I don’t want to talk about something, respect that.  I have reasons.”

“Like I said, I’m sorry.  How’s rooming with Thomas?” John asked, trying to change the subject.

Alexander sighed.  “Don’t even get me started.  We disagree on everything, he mocks me, and it’s a right pain in the ass.  I think that we have far too many differences for us to ever get along.  Although, I don’t think that I would want to get along with him.”

John laughed.  “He’s either despised or worshiped around here.  Even the upperclassmen know him, mostly since he writes for the school paper.  He’s a dick—I’m glad you don’t like him.  He intentionally uses male pronouns for Laf, writes opinion pieces against the LGBT+ community in general and our club in specific, mocks Mulligan for being a fashion major, hits on all three Schuyler sisters and treats them as if they’re all the same person, and that’s just the things he does to our group.”

Alexander wrinkled his nose.  “And I’m stuck with him for the rest of the semester.  It’s been all of four days—today being number five—and I already can’t wait to get out.”

“You know that if you have a bad roommate situation you can request to be moved, right?”

Alexander’s (frankly adorable) blush returned.  “I can’t.  There’s some things that happen if you’re moved, and you…” He took a deep breath.  “You heard what he said.  Full ride.  If I’m moved I have to pay for a new room, and my scholarship wouldn’t cover it.”

That was the closest Alexander had come to admitting anything about his past, and John appreciated it, even if it hurt him to hear his new friend admitting, even indirectly, how poor he was.  None of the others were in that situation.  Even Mulligan, who was from a slightly rougher part of Manhattan, was still pretty well off, the Schuyler and Laurens families were extremely well-to-do, and there were whispered rumors that Lafayette’s family held some sort of title in France.

“I see.”

Any further conversation was cut off by the prof entering the room.

* * *

The class was pretty boring, but it always was on the first day.  As they were packing up to leave, John slipped Alexander a slip of paper with his number on it.  “Text me?”

Alexander nodded, slipping the paper into his pocket, then he vanished off to his next class, leaving John to make his way to his own next class.

* * *

**From: Unknown number**

_This is Alexander._

**To: Alexander**

_Do you want to join me for lunch?  Laf and Mulligan will be there, too._

**From: Alexander**

_I’d love to.  When and where am I to meet you?_

**To: Alexander**

_Dining hall.  11:45._

* * *

It was 11:45 exactly when John saw Alexander from across the dining hall.  He waved, and Alexander headed over to meet him.

“ Je suis ravi de te revoir, Alexander,” Lafayette said.

“Ravi aussi.  Je suis désolé d'avoir filé comme ça.  C'est un truc délicat pour moi”

Mulligan groaned.  “English, please.”

“I’m sorry for running out on all of you the other day.”

Mulligan shook his head.  “We should be sorry, not you.  We should have stopped Angelica when you asked her to stop.”

The conversation was interrupted by John’s stomach growling.

“I guess we should go get food…”

“How are classes going?” Mulligan asked when they reconvened with their food.  “I know it’s only the first day, but from the syllabuses and whatnot, how do they look?”

John shrugged.  “It’s still gen eds and freshman level courses.  Nothing too stressful.”

“I think that I’ll be able to understand all my professors this semester,” Lafayette said.  “That’s an improvement.  And they are okay with calling me Lafayette, Dieu merci.”

“Alexander?”

“I thought that I would be busier, with more classes, and harder ones.”

“You _want_ to be working harder?” Mulligan asked incredulously.  “Are you crazy?”

“I’m here to make something of myself.  I need to be the best.  I can’t go back.”

Lafayette arched an eyebrow, but they said nothing.

Alexander was quickly done.  “I have class soon, so I’ll see you all later.”  He wrapped himself back up in his multitude of layers and vanished.

As soon as he was gone, Lafayette spoke up.  “‘I can’t go back’?  I know that Alexander doesn’t want us asking about his past, but I am very curious.”

“He also mentioned something earlier today,” John cut in.  “He’s on a full scholarship, and he can’t afford to be moved to a new room, even though he doesn’t get along with Thomas.”

“I’m curious as to what all he’s hiding,” Mulligan admitted.  “But I’m not going to press him for details of his past.  Whatever it is, it’s his to hold onto and only share if he wants.”

“More interesting to discuss, I think, is notre cher John’s huge—what’s the word—crush? Crush on Alexander,” Lafayette said.

John flushed slightly, but didn’t try to argue the point.  Lafayette was correct, of course, and knowing that Alexander was bi wasn’t helping with the situation.

“I thought he was gorgeous the first time that I saw him, and then Angelica and I started teaching him how to properly debate, and I sort of fell in love with his mind, too.  I don’t know if he’s interested in me, too, but it would be great.”

“He’s interested in you,” Lafayette said seriously.  “Trust me; I am an excellent matchmaker.  I’m French, after all.”

John and Mulligan burst out laughing, and Lafayette joined them after a second. 

“Okay, but in all honestly, do you really think that?” John asked once he could breathe again.

“Even I can see it,” Mulligan said before Lafayette even managed to open their mouth.  “He looks at you the exact same way that you look at him.”

John pulled out his phone, utilizing it as a reason not to have to look at his friends while he was blushing as hard as he was.

**To: Alexander**

_Would you be interested in hanging out tonight?  I have a collection of movies in my room._

He knew that Alex wouldn’t get the text for a while, since he was in class, but he needed to ask before his nerves managed to talk him out of it.

“I’ve got to go,” Mulligan announced.  “The studio’s free for a bit and I have a project that I really need to work on.”

“I should probably get going, too,” John said with a sigh.  “Why do profs assign so much reading on the first day of class?”

“No idea.”

* * *

**From: Alexander**

_Isn’t there debate tonight?_

**To: Alexander**

_Damn, you’re right.  I’ll see you then._

**From: Alexander**

_Maybe afterwards?_

**To: Alexander**

_Sounds great!_

**From: Alexander**

_It’s a date :)_

John stared at Alexander’s most recent text, heart pounding.  He had no idea what to make of it, really.  Did Alexander mean a _date_ date, or did he just mean it in the cheesy way that people in movies always meant it?

John shook his head.  There was nothing that he could do about it either way.  He would just have to wait and see what happened.

* * *

Alexander was engaged in a verbal spat with Thomas when John arrived at the debate meeting, but he immediately broke it off upon seeing the other.

“My dear John,” he said cheerfully.  “How are the rest of your classes?”

“Good,” John said.  “Not much exciting.  You?”

“Good, same as you.  I have one on the Cold War that looks very interesting, especially as that’s not a topic I ever learned much about.  The others are just the stuff I have to take before I can get into anything that’s actually related to what I want to do.”

“What do you want to do?”

Alexander shrugged.  “Be a lawyer, make a difference.  Stand up for the people who can’t stand up for themselves, who no one listens to.  No one should have to go through that, especially since it’s the people who can’t afford the lawyers who so often need one.  There are people in jail who are only there because their state-appointed lawyer didn’t really care enough to help them win their case.  I want to eliminate that.  Maybe go into politics one day; I’m not sure.  I really just want to help people.”

“That’s a great cause.  Have you ever been in any protests?” John asked interestedly.  He had been in several since coming to college, although he had to be careful to avoid getting arrested, since he couldn’t let his dad know what he was up to.

Alexander shook his head.  “That sort of thing didn’t really happen...before.  If it did, though, I would have been there.  Sometimes that’s the only way to actually get anything done, since it’s the only way to get anyone to listen, to notice.”

Angelica put her hands on John’s shoulders from behind, causing him to jump.  “God, Angelica.  Can you please try to _avoid_ giving me a heart attack?”

Angelica laughed.  “You love me.”

John made a noncommittal noise, and Alexander laughed.

“Oh, Alexander, by the way.  I’m sorry, really.”  Angelica grinned tentatively at Alexander, then looked very relieved when he grinned back.

“Apology accepted.”

“All right, we’re trying something a bit different tonight,” Washington called, bringing the meeting to a start.  “I’m going to assign a topic, and you’ll have twenty minutes to do your research, the usual.  But this week I’m going to assign you all a number, and you’ll get your debate partners at random that way.  I feel like you’re getting complacent, debating the same person every week, since you know their style.  This way you’ll get a bit of a challenge, a new experience.  We have a tournament coming up, so it’ll come in handy.  Here’s the topic: civil disobedience in a democracy is morally justified.  Be prepared to argue either side.”

John pulled out his phone, starting to look up examples and prepare his argument.  Next to him, Alexander was scribbling fiercely, writing at an unbelievable pace.

Once the time was up, Washington assigned debate partners.  John got saddled with Samuel Seabury, who really was a drag on the team, but was easy to beat.  He didn’t formulate arguments, just repeated the same things over and over.  Alexander, on the other hand, ended up paired with Jefferson.

“What I wouldn’t give to listen in on that debate,” Angelica murmured as she passed by John to meet her partner.  John found that he couldn’t agree more.

That particular debate ended up going far longer than any of the others, as Thomas and Alexander turned out to be perfectly matched.  Neither one could say something that the other couldn’t counter.  Finally, Washington intervened.

“Enough, enough.  I’m giving this win to Alexander.  While both arguments are nearly flawless, his is better.”

Thomas shook his head.  “Oh, you bastard,” he muttered in defeat.

Alexander, who had been in the process of heading over to John and Angelica, turned around and punched Thomas square in the face.

Chaos broke out.

“What the hell!”

“Alexander!”

James tended to Thomas, who was on the floor, and Washington had Alexander’s shoulder in a firm grasp.

“Fighting will not be tolerated.”

“Even if he deserved it?”

“No one deserves getting punched in the face.”

“I beg to differ,” Alexander muttered.

“Since this was the first time, I’ll let you go with a warning.  Do it again and we’ll go to the staff.  Do you understand me?” Washington asked firmly.

Alexander nodded, then, as soon as Washington’s grasp was gone, hurried over to John and Angelica.

“Does that movie night offer still stand?” he asked, biting his lip.

“Of course.”

“Then let’s go.”

* * *

Aaron was at his girlfriend’s dorm, so the two boys had the room to themselves.  “What do you want to watch?” John asked, spreading his DVD collection across his bed.

“I don’t care.  You choose.”

“What’s your favorite?”

Alexander hesitated.  “I…don’t know.  I didn’t really watch movies growing up.  Only a few Disney movies here and there.”

“Okay.”

John chose one of his personal favorites, _The Princess Bride_ , and popped it in his laptop.  “You’ll love this one.  The title is misleading.  And I promise not to quote along, since you’ve not seen it.”

Alexander arched an eyebrow, but said nothing.

* * *

There was silence in the room as the movie played.  John mouthed the lines along, but held true to his promise to stay quiet.  After it was over, he glanced at Alexander.  “What do you think?”

“I love it.  And I’d love to stay longer, but I really should get back to my room.  Reading to do, all that.”

“Of course.  I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

Once Alexander was gone, John grabbed his phone.  The group chat he was in was busy discussing what had happened in the debate meeting.

**From: Mulligan**

_Wait are the rumors true??  Alexander punched Thomas Jefferson for saying you bastard??????_

**From: Angelica**

_100% true_

**From: Mulligan**

_But why?  That’s not an insult that requires such a strong response_

**From: Lafayette**

_Maybe Alexander didn’t know that?_

**From: Angelica**

_No, it seemed personal.  I saw his face when he did it.  He looked furious._

**To: Group**

_He seemed calm enough.  Besides, you know, punching someone._

**From: Eliza**

_I may have done some digging_

**From: Lafayette**

_Oh?_

**From: Eliza**

_Yeah.  It explains things.  Don’t tell Alexander.  Here. [Link attached]_

John clicked on the link.  It led to a news article

**_The Charlestown Post_ **

**_Community Raises Funds for Boy’s Education_ **

_It is truly a tragedy of our times that sometimes the brightest people are those born into the most unfortunate situations.  Such is the story of Alexander Hamilton.  Alexander, the son of Rachel Buck and an unknown man, started life already in the worst of situations.  His mother’s husband, furious that his wife had given birth to the child of another man, kicked her and her newborn son out of his home with nothing, not even the items that rightfully belonged to Rachel.  This sharp decline into poverty was something that she would never manage to escape.  Shunned by her neighbors, Rachel died years later of an unknown illness, leaving behind her twelve-year-old son, now an orphan, as well as a brilliant mind locked in poverty and ostracized by those around him._

_Alexander, left alone and ignored by child protective services, was forced to drop out of school a year and a half later to try and support himself, but he still continued to learn.  A teacher from the local school, Ms. Katherine Kuller, would come to the hut on the outskirts of town that Alexander called home in order to keep his education up.  Later, she would become one of the strongest advocates for the fundraising efforts that sent Alexander to America._

_The hurricane that destroyed much of town last year proved to be Alexander’s chance to escape his circumstances.  As many of the locals know, he wrote a piece to some figure long gone from his life describing the storm, and that piece was brought to the attention of the town officials, who proceeded to publish it.  This brought the boy’s intellect to the attention of the townspeople, as well as the question of why no one had heard from him before.  A mind this great should not be left to rot in the cesspool of the slums.  Rather, it should be promoted and fed with the best on offer._

_For this reason, the town took up a collection to fund Alexander’s journey to the United States and further education.  This was recognized when Alexander received a full scholarship to a top-notch university, where he will continue to do us all proud._

John stared at the screen of his phone.  No wonder Alexander was so secretive.

**From: Lafayette**

_We can’t say anything about this to Alexander._

Various forms of agreement came in from the other members of the chat, and John turned off his phone, sliding into bed and staring into the darkness.

Alexander had had such a rough life.  John couldn’t even imagine. 

But he was determined to help make it better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People always write Hamilton as having all his work done ages in advance, but I see him more as doing it last minute because he got so engrossed in working on all his other projects on social justice and the like. He still gets A’s, though.  
> Il est agréable de vous revoir, Alexander: It’s nice to see you again, Alexander.  
> Je vous souhaite la même chose. Je suis désolé de manquer sur vous tous l'autre jour. Sujet délicat: The same to you. I'm sorry about running out on all of you the other day. Touchy subject.  
> Dieu merci: thank god  
> notre cher: our dear
> 
> Oh, and I know that a lot of people do non-binary Lafayette in these AUs. Being agender myself, I love it. And I can see it in Laf.  
> If the romance and flirting and stuff is incredibly awkward, I am so sorry. I’m ace and aro, with no experience in any of that and no interest in gaining any.  
> The Cold War class that Alex mentions is based off my IDST (freshman seminar) class, which was on the Cold War. I was pretty much the only one in the class who actually wanted to be there, and I loved it. It was my favorite class last semester. I chose that one because I want him to be talking about classes more in depth with the group later on, and that was really the only one that I’ve taken that he would have as well, except maybe my English sem, but that’s boring. I’m a forensic anthropology major, so there’s really not much overlap there.  
> I BSed the stuff about the state-appointed lawyers and whatnot. I was writing that part at 12:30 in the morning, so I was not about to try and do research.  
> The debate topic came from here: http://www.speechanddebate.org/topics, and the debate form they are practicing is Lincoln-Douglas debate, which is explained here: https://debate.uvm.edu/dcpdf/LDIntroduction_to_LD_Debate_(NFL).pdf. I have some experience with LD debate, and it’s very fun and all that.  
> Princess Bride is one of my all-time favorite movies. It’s great. After band season ended last year my brother and I had friends over to watch it and we all quoted along and it was amazing. That’s the way to watch Princess Bride, really.  
> I invented the Charlestown Post. If that’s really a newspaper on Nevis, oops. It wasn’t intentional. Also, I took huge liberties with that article. It was fun to write, though.  
> I wrote most of this while waiting to film the next installment in my Hamilton Dance Project. Basically, I'm choreographing a dance for ever song in the show. If any of you are interested, what I have done is on YouTube; just search Hamilton Dance Project. The World Was Wide Enough and Story of Tonight are already up, and I'm about to film It's Quiet Uptown, so that'll be up really soon.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John fucks up and Thomas stages an intervention.

John had his earbuds in, so he hadn’t heard Alexander approaching him.  He didn’t know that the other was there until there was a touch on his shoulder. 

He jumped and turned, pulling his earbuds out as he did.

“Do you know that you sing along to your music when you think there’s no one around to hear you?”

John blushed.  He hadn’t realized.  Sure, he was alone, but he was also in the middle of campus.  Anyone could have walked up.  And he wasn’t even entirely sure what it was that he was listening to, to be honest.  He knew all the songs on his playlist so well that he would just sing along without even thinking. 

“What kind of music even is that?  ‘I make these high heels work,’ ‘I’m not as think as you drunk I am,’ ‘champagne, cocaine, gasoline’?”  Alexander sounded amused.  “Bit different than what I’m used to.”

‘It’s Panic! At the Disco,” John explained.  “One of my favorites.”  He shrugged.  “What’s up?”

“Nothing much, really.  I just saw you over here and thought that I would come say hi.  I have an essay to write for Cold War, so I was on my way to work on that.  It’s not until next week, though.  Do you want to come back to my room with me?  Thomas should be out until at least six, so we have some time.”

“Sure,” John said with a shrug.  He was interested in seeing Alexander’s room—you could tell a lot about someone from the way they lived. 

Alexander lived on the fourth floor of his building.  John headed towards the elevators, but Alexander wrinkled his nose. 

“You’re welcome to take that—I’ll meet you there.  I don’t like elevators.”

After pausing for a moment, John followed Alexander up the stairs, then, when they reached the fourth floor, down the hall to his room.  Alexander paused for a moment to unlock the door, then led John in.

“Most of this shit is Thomas’,” Alexander explained.  “He had gotten used to having all the room in here.  He pretty much cleared off the bed and the desk for me, and one dresser.  Kept both closets, most of the floor space, all that.  Oh, and I have the wall next to my bed to decorate.”  He gestured at it.

“Doesn’t that bother you?” John asked.

Alexander shook his head, sitting on the bed and gesturing for John to join him.  “Not really.  It’s not like I brought that much with me when I moved in.”

John nodded, looking at the few things that Alexander had taped to the wall.  A copy of the Declaration of Independence, a handwritten copy of the First Amendment, a ragged picture of a beautiful woman and a young child who looked about eight or nine.

“My mother,” Alexander explained quietly.  “She died when I was twelve.  This is the only photo I have of her.  That’s me.”

John grinned.  “Aw, you were an adorable kid.”  His tone was joking, but he was completely serious.  And he wouldn’t say this, but he thought that Alexander was still adorable.

Alexander smacked John’s arm lightly, but he was laughing.  “Actually, and this isn’t related to me being an adorable kid, as you say, I have something that I need to tell you.  I’ve sort of wanted to tell you this since I met you, but I wasn’t sure.  But I think I can tell you, now.”

“I know about your past,” John said, and was met with a horrified stare from Alexander.  “That’s what you wanted to tell me, right?  Eliza found an article after you punched Thomas.”

Alexander was staring straight ahead, face blank.  “I think you should go.”

“Alexander…”

“Get out.”  Alexander’s voice was tense, as if he was trying to keep his emotions in check.  “Get out.”

* * *

**To: Group**

_I fucked up.  Big time._

**From: Mulligan**

_What did you do?_

**To: Group**

_So, I was hanging out with Alexander, and he said he had something to tell me, something that he had wanted to tell me since we had met and that he only now felt comfortable telling me.  I thought he was going to talk about his past, so I told him about that article that Eliza found.  He’s really mad at me now._

**From: Angelica**

_Oh no_

**From: Lafayette**

_You damaged his trust_

**To: Group**

_Yeah, thanks, Laf, I know._

**From: Peggy**

_I said that we shouldn’t have dug into his past._

**From: Eliza**

_Did you try texting him?_

**To: Group**

_Not yet.  He seemed really mad._

**From: Eliza**

_Can I have his number?_

**From: Lafayette**

_May I, as well?_

**To: Group**

_[Shared contact]_

**From: Lafayette**

_Merci_

**From: Eliza**

_Thanks, babe,_

* * *

**From: Eliza**

_Talking to Alexander didn’t exactly go so well._

**To: Eliza**

_Oh?_

**From: Eliza**

_[Image attached]_

 

> **To: Alexander**
> 
> _Hey Alexander.  This is Eliza._
> 
> **From: Alexander**
> 
> _Fuck off._
> 
> **To: Alexander**
> 
> _I’m really sorry._
> 
> **From: Alexander**
> 
> _Sorry isn’t going to fix this.  I asked all of you to not dig into my past.  If any of you were reasonable people you would have learned the first time.  Leave me alone._
> 
> **To: Alexander**
> 
> _Alexander…_

**To: Eliza**

_Shit._

**From: Eliza**

_I know.  I don’t think that we can fix this.  I think that we lost our friend._

**To: Eliza**

_I’m so sorry._

**From: Eliza**

_Don’t be._

***

John tried to talk to Alexander the next day in class, with no success.  It was the quietest that he had ever seen the other, and it was a bit scary.  Alexander didn’t make John move seats, but he did pretend that John wasn’t there at all, which was worse.

“He’s completely ignoring me,” John complained at lunch.

“He’s completely ignoring all of us,” Mulligan replied.  “We’ve all tried to talk to him.  He’s not answering any texts and pretends we’re not there if we try to talk to him in person.”

“I’m really sorry that I told him that we knew about his past.  I ruined his friendship for all of us.  I shouldn’t have done that,” John said, looking crestfallen. 

“It was the right thing to do,” Lafayette said, the response barely understandable between their accent and the bite of pizza they had just taken.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Angelica scolded.

“Okay, mère.”  Lafayette rolled their eyes.

“But they are right,” Angelica continued.  “We shouldn’t have done that, and you were right to tell Alexander, even though he now hates us all.”

John didn’t say anything, just nodded.

* * *

Alexander wasn’t at the debate meeting, and Thomas was glaring at John from across the room.  The first was odd.  The second was less odd, but it still wasn’t normal.

After the meeting, Thomas, wonder of wonders, walked up to John.  “Not that I give a shit about Alexander, but all he does beside class is sit on his bed and write.  Endlessly.  He’s always there.  I don’t think he’s slept in days, and he’s keeping me up.  Like I said, I don’t care about Alexander.  But he’s disturbing me, and he said that you were the cause.  Fix this mess.  Either get him to behave like an actual human being or get him out of the room.  I don’t care which.  I can let you into the room so you can get this shit under control.”

“I’ll see you later,” John muttered to Angelica, then grudgingly followed Thomas out of the room and across campus.

Once he had unlocked the door, Thomas vanished. 

John stood in the doorway of the room, looking at Alexander.  He could only see him in profile, but he really didn’t look good.  He was sitting crosslegged on his bed, back against the wall, typing away furiously on his laptop.  His hair was greasy and hanging in his face, and even from the distance he was at John could see the bags under his eyes.

“How long has it been since you’ve slept?”

Alexander jumped.  “What are you doing here?  I thought I told you to get out and to leave me alone.”

“Thomas, of all people, sent me.”

“I don’t need your help.”

John crossed his arms.  “Alexander.  I’m not taking no for an answer.  You want to get rid of me, fine.  But it’s not going to be that easy.”

“John.”  Alexander’s voice was little more than a warning growl.  “Out.”

“No.  There are steps to getting me out.  First, you go shower.  I’ll wait here.”

Alexander glared at John, but did as he was told.  While he was gone, John grabbed a piece of paper and a pen off his desk and started on a letter for Alexander.

He finished the letter about a minute before Alexander returned, slipping it under Alexander’s pillow.

“Okay. I’ve taken a shower.  Now what do you want me to do?” Alexander demanded.  His ponytail was dripping on his worn t shirt, and his feet were bare beneath ratty sweatpants.  John just wanted to bundle him up in a million blankets and cuddle the shit out of him.  But he couldn’t do that, he reminded himself.

“We’re going to the dining hall and you’re going to eat something.”

Alexander shook his head.  “Not going out.”

“Fine.  Then we’re going to the vending machine down the hall.  You need to eat.”

Alexander followed John slowly, not looking happy about it. 

The hall vending machine sold more than just snacks, since the school knew that there were times when it was so much easier to run down the hall to buy a cup of soup or ramen or whatever instead of actually going to the dining hall.

John bought a cup of chicken noodle soup, then dragged Alexander to microwave it.  When they got back to the room, John shoved the soup at the other.  “Eat.”

Alexander did, glaring angrily into the soup as if it was his worst enemy.

Once Alexander finished the soup, John offered him a piece of chocolate from his bag.  “Do you have anything due tomorrow?”

When Alexander shook his head, John scooped up his laptop.  “I’ll give this back to you tomorrow morning in class.  For now, sleep.  That’s an order.  And I will check up with Thomas, who has no reason to lie about whether or not you slept.”

Alexander looked positively mutinous, but he nodded. 

“Good.  I’ll see you tomorrow.”

* * *

John was fast asleep, so he didn’t hear his phone go off.

**From: Alexander**

_Thank you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit shorter than I’d like, but I had to cut it off where I did. Because reasons.
> 
> John’s listening to Panic! At The Disco because I needed an excuse to fuss over Death of a Bachelor. It’s sooooo good. The title of this mess comes from the first song, Victorious. The song that John was singing along to is my personal favorite from the album, Don’t Threaten Me With a Good Time. Also used it because John’s music is going to be a recurring theme, I think, and so I’m basically giving him my playlist (https://open.spotify.com/user/kris_haas/playlist/4IYdJETg0W755EVNeAUEyT, except minus the Hamilton songs), because that way it’s all music I know.
> 
> Mère: mother
> 
> Can you buy soup and stuff from a vending machine? I have no idea.
> 
> I decided the actual event that correlates with the title. You’re all going to hate me. I know that I would hate me, if I was a reader. But, since I’m the author, I’m just sitting here giggling in maniacal glee. I had to do a lot of research to make sure that it was actually going to work out, but I’m super excited. It’ll hopefully be here in a few chapters, and will very much shape the rest of this.
> 
> Also, I’m considering, once this is done, rewriting and posting it from Alexander’s point of view. With the aforementioned event, I think it could be very interesting. Would any of you be interested in that?
> 
> Oh, and I’m on tumblr: smallinsaneone.tumblr.com. Come say hi.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff ft. Alexander's sad childhood.

John hadn’t been quite sure what to make of Alexander’s text.  On one hand, it had been sent after he had told Alexander to go to sleep, but insomnia or waking up in the middle of the night was always a possibility, so he wasn’t about to drag his friend on that.  On the other hand, though, it was so out of character for the way that Alexander had been acting the last few days.  Either way, though, John wasn’t about to question the first nice thing that Alexander had said to him in days.

When he got to class, Alexander actually acknowledged his presence, with a grin that left John reeling.  The grin didn’t vanish after receiving his laptop back, so John assumed that Alexander wasn’t just playing him.

“I’m sorry?  About the whole past thing?” John said slowly, unsure what he was supposed to do.

Alexander’s grin fell, but he shrugged.  “What’s done is done.  I guess that the reason that I didn’t want anyone to know was that I didn’t want to be judged for my past.  I was at another school before here, and they knew everything, from icebreakers and whatnot, and they were terrible to me because of it.  Because I wasn’t from a rich family, because I’m an orphan, because I’m a _bastard_.”  His voice was harsh.  “And then I met all of you and I’ve never had a group of friends before, and I didn’t want to lose that.”

John ducked his head to pull things out of his bag, as well as to hide his face from Alexander.  He didn’t want the other to see how mad he was.  Not at Alexander, never at Alexander, but at the people who hadn’t even tried to look past a rough upbringing and everything that went with that to see the heart of gold underneath.

Once he was calm, John looked back to Alexander.  “We would never judge you on your past.  It doesn’t define who you are as a person.  I mean, there are some people who had the same upbringing as most of us that we can’t stand—take Thomas, for example.”

Alexander laughed.  “Fair enough.”

“John.  Alexander.  The class is waiting on you.”

* * *

Halfway through class, Alexander slipped John a note.

_I forgot to mention—I saw the letter you left.  It means a lot, really.  I mean, you actually apologized.  I didn’t treat you entirely right either (and I’m sorry), but at least you owned up what you did.  I still have something I need to tell you, though._

John bit his lip, nervous, then caught Alexander looking at him out of the corner of his eye.

“Later,” he whispered, and Alexander nodded.

* * *

Alexander had to run off to his next class immediately, so John didn’t get to talk to him then.  He also didn’t come to lunch, but that could have been because of his schedule.

“Alexander’s talking to me again,” John reported to his friends that were at lunch.  Mulligan grinned and Lafayette applauded.  John stuck out his tongue at his friends.

“You’re both such assholes.”

“You love us.”

“Mm.”

“So, Alexander is talking to you again?”

John nodded.  “Yeah.  Thomas Jefferson actually started it, go figure.  Forced me to get Alexander to sleep and stuff—he was disturbing Thomas.  So I did, left him a note apologizing, and now he’ll talk to me.”

“Thomas talked to—you know what, never mind.  Whatever works, I guess.  Is Alex joining us for lunch?” Mulligan asked

John shook his head.  “He has class.  Or, well, he has class soon and would have to bolt out on us.  I’m meeting up with him later tonight, though.  He said that he has something to tell me.  The same thing that he had to tell me before I fucked everything up.”

“Should we add Alexander to the group chat?” Lafayette asked, looking up from their phone.

“I’d ask him first,” Mulligan advised.  “We know he’s not mad at John anymore, but he might be with the rest of us.  There’s really no way to know.”

**To: Alexander**

_Do you want to be in a group chat with me, Laf, Mulligan, and the Schuyler sisters?  I know you’re talking to me again, but I just want to make sure that you’re talking to them too before we add you._

**From: Alexander**

_Sure.  I can’t avoid and hold a grudge against them forever.  Well, I /could/, but I don’t want to.  They’re your friends, as well as the closest thing I have to friends.  And I feel as if it would be a good idea to be on good terms with them anyway._

That last sentence really didn’t make much sense, but John wasn’t going to try and figure it out.

**To: Group**

_I’m adding Alexander to the chat._

**From: Eliza**

_Oh no now we can’t talk shit about him anymore ;)_

**From: Peggy**

_You’re terrible._

**From: Peggy**

_I mean my sister, not John._

* * *

John met Alexander later that night.  “So, I may have slightly forgotten that LGBT+ club meetings start tonight, in about half an hour.  Do you want to come with me?  I mean, you don’t have to, and if you don’t want to I’ll text you afterwards to meet up, but you’re more than welcome to come along.  We like getting new members.  Our meetings aren’t very well advertised because reasons, so we don’t often get new members.  And people who are interested in coming end up being unable to find us.  We’re a little hidden.”

“I’d love to come.”  Alexander grinned at John.  “Any excuse to spend time with my best guy.”

“Your best guy?” John pretended to be offended.  “And who’s your best girl?”

Alexander shrugged.  “I really don’t know that many girls yet.  The few that I do know I’ve spent too much time being angry at to really make a decision.  Lafayette’s my best non-binary.”  He smiled.  “It’s nice having friends.  Strange.  You know about how I grew up, to some extent.  I didn’t exactly have many friends.  You didn’t talk to the whore, or her bastard.”

John shuddered at the terms.  “Don’t say that.”

“Why not?  It’s true.  That’s what they always said.  My mother was cast out of the community for cheating on her husband, and having a kid out of it, and I was bad luck.  The only reason that I escaped was because I showed that I was smart enough that they _couldn’t_ ignore me anymore.  The movement to collect money for me was started by someone who didn’t know who I was beyond having read my writing, so he didn’t know that I wasn’t supposed to be talked to.  He was powerful, too powerful to be involved in the petty dealings of the lower classes, which is why he didn’t know, but he was also too powerful to be ignored when he took up the collection.  Some people donated willingly, others grudgingly.  Regardless, it was enough to get me here, and thank god for that.”

John had no idea what to say to that.  He didn’t get on with his family particularly well—they held many outdated beliefs, including that anyone who wasn’t straight and cis would burn in hell—but that was nothing like what Alexander had been subjected to.

“That picture you saw of me and my mother, when you said I was an adorable kid,” Alexander began slowly, hesitantly, “that wasn’t how I usually looked.  There had been a festival in town that day, more a showing for the tourists than anything else, and that was pretty much the only time that the two of us were allowed in town.  And, since there were tourists, no one could do anything against us like they usually did.  We were cleaned up a lot.  That was the one time that we bathed in fresh water instead of the ocean.  Those were the only good clothes I owned.  We had to look good.  If the children were adorable enough sometimes the tourists would give us food and gifts, like we were pets, and that was the only time I ate well.”

“Dear lord, Alexander,” John whispered.  “Break my heart a little more, why don’t you?”

Alexander’s eyes glinted at the challenge.  “There was this one couple who wanted a tropical pet.  They were all over the monkeys, until they saw the children.  They offered parents so much money to be able to take one home.  No one took the offer, except one man, but he didn’t have any children of his own.  So he decided to sell them a child anyone, the one that no one would miss.  Luckily, I knew the island a lot better than they did.  They were easy to escape.  Sure, I would have been well fed and well treated, but they also forgot I was a person.  Thought it was the sweetest thing when I spoke our creole, but didn’t like the reminder that I also spoke English and French.  It wouldn’t have been a good life.”

“You’re pulling my leg.”  He had to be.

Alexander shook his head.  “I wish.”

“…right.”  John glanced at his phone.  “It’s about time for the meeting.  Shall we head over?”

“Sounds good.”

* * *

The LGBT+ club met in a small classroom in the back of one of the lesser used academic buildings.  It was hard to get to, but, according to Angelica, there had been some raids of meetings by campus homophobes her freshman year, so this was better.  It also ensured that one of the only ways to actually find the meeting was to be brought by an existing club member, a vetting process, of sorts.

“Here we are!” John said, gesturing at the room as he sat at one of the desks.  Already there were the Schuyler sisters, Lafayette, and a few other members.

“Mulligan is bringing food,” Lafayette announced before John could even ask where the last member of their group was.

“Awesome.”

“Yes, I am,” Mulligan agreed, dropping a few bags on the table in the front.

“Do we really want to use that table for food?” Eliza asked, giving Mulligan a pointed look.

“Well, do you see any others?  Besides, they do clean in here, regardless of what you may think.”

“Okay,” Angelica cut in.  “It’s 8:50, and since we were scheduled to start at 8:45, I’m going to assume that this is everyone.  I’m Angelica, the president of the club.  Mulligan here is my vice president, because even straight allies can be good leaders.  If anyone has any problems with that, deal with it.  Last year’s group voted him in, so no complaining.  We’re going to get in a circle, and I know that you’ve had enough of icebreakers, but ours is a bit different.  It’s called the outing.  When it’s your turn, you stand in the middle of the circle and say your name, pronouns, and major.  Then the rest of us have to guess your orientation.  If you already know for someone, you’re not allowed to say.  After that, we’ll do shitclouds and rainbows.”

The outing went smoothly, then they went into shitclouds and rainbows.

“Shitcloud—classes.  Rainbow—definitely being able to be out and proud here.  I can’t do that at home.” 

Alexander was next, and last.  “Shitcloud…I’m really not sure, honestly.  As for my rainbow, I have too many to name, really.”

“Great.  So, we’re really not going to do all the much today.  This meeting was really more to get to know each other.  I have a lot of big plans for this year.  We’re going to try for gender neutral bathrooms, again, for one.  And educate, that’s a big one.”  Angelica stood, flipping her hair over her shoulder.  “So, same time, same place next week.  Hope to see you all then!”

The club members dispersed to go their separate ways.  “I’ve still got to talk to you,” Alexander reminded John.  “Can we wait for a moment, until everyone leaves?”

John shrugged.  “Sure.”

It only took a few minutes for the room to be clear.  “Hit the lights on your way out, please,” Angelica called as she headed out the door, and John gave her a thumbs up.

“So, what is it that you wanted to say?”

Alexander took a deep breath.  “You know more about me than anyone else in this country.  Honestly, I’d have to say that you know more about me than anyone in the world.  There’s still a lot you don’t know, but you haven’t run screaming yet, so I’d say that’s a good sign.  I’ve always known that I was bi, but sexualities other than hetero weren’t really all that accepted back before, so I never let myself have crushes on anyone.  I mean, it wasn’t like I could get close enough to anyone to develop a crush on them anyway, so there’s that.  But then I came here and met all of you and there was actually people who didn’t know my story and so they liked me.  And then there’s you, and you know my story, and you still like me.  I don’t know why, but I’m not going to argue it.  That would be against my own self-interest.  I guess sort of what I’m trying to say is that I like you a lot, John Laurens.”

“I like you a lot, too,” John said, confused.

Alexander shook his head, looking frustrated.  “No, like I want to take you on a date.  Or, I would, if I had any money for that.  I want to be able to curl up in bed with you and watch movies, or hold hands while walking across campus, or whatever.  That kind of like.  But if you don’t want that, that’s okay.  As long as you don’t want to stop being friends with me, since I don’t think that I could deal with that.  Please don’t leave me, John, I won’t bring this up aga—”

John cut him off.  “I want that, too.”

Alexander stared at him for a moment, then broke into a huge grim and threw his arms around John.  After a moment, John returned the hug, and they just stood there like that for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve officially outlined the rest of the story from here on out. It’s going to take a sharp turn. Not gonna be about college anymore. And it’s going to get very, very, very dark. Tags will be added as needed for trigger warnings. Pay close attention to them. Sorry about this. I was originally just going to kill someone but I decided that I was going to be crueler to them and that is going to shape a lot of things.
> 
> Huge thanks to julietfleur for correcting my French. I speak English and Norwegian, neither of which are any help for French, so I’ve been relying on google translate, which, as we all know, is sketchy as fuck.
> 
> The reason that their LGBT+ club meetings aren’t well advertised is because I’m basing this off my own experiences, and I go to a Catholic university, so, while we’re allowed to have a club and stuff, we don’t really advertise and we meet in a room that pretty much no one knows how to get to in a building that barely exists (there are four buildings that are all connected, and we meet in Sullivan, which is the one of the four that only has three rooms). Because of this, I don’t really know how one even would advertise the club meeting.
> 
> I completely made up a lot of Alex’s childhood. Would he have actually been treated like that? I don’t know. Do tourists treat natives like pets? I don’t know. I wanted to make his story sadder, as well as set up later events. 
> 
> The question about using the table for food is actually one that was asked at a meeting of my LGBT+ club. Apparently that table is the sex table. Most likely because no one actually goes in that room besides the club (and, apparently, my intro to religious class next semester. But that’s irrelevant).
> 
> We actually did play the outing at my first club meeting. It’s fun. We also do shitclouds and rainbows at every meeting. You say your shitclouds (low) for the week, then your rainbow (high). We also did the bathrooms thing—and finally succeeded.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hobbit birthday present with fluff and an essay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I’m a huge Lord of the Rings fan, have some words of wisdom from J.R.R. Tolkien: “Hobbits gave presents to other people on their own birthday.” As such, I present you with a hobbit birthday present: a new chapter.

John wanted to tell the world that Alexander Hamilton had asked him out.  Alexander Hamilton, who he had thought was gorgeous since the first time he had laid eyes on him, who he had been in love with since they had gotten to know each other, who was his dream boy.  But he couldn’t do that, since he couldn’t risk his family finding out.  The only person outside of his college friends who knew that he was gay was his sister Martha, since she was much more open-minded than their parents, and the only one of his siblings that John trusted not to tell.

**To: Martha**

_Guess who has a boyfriend!!! :)_

**From: Martha**

_Someone’s actually interested in you?  Shocker._

**To: Martha**

_Very funny.  But seriously._

**From: Martha**

_I’m excited for you.  Tell me about him._

**To: Martha**

_I sort of already have…_

**From: Martha**

_Oh my god, it’s that Alexander that you never shut up about, isn’t it?_

**To: Martha**

_:D_

**From: Martha**

_Wooooow._

**To: Martha**

_Shut up._

**From: Alexander**

_You up?_

**From: Martha**

_Never._

**To: Alexander**

_Of course.  Insomnia is a bitch._

**From: Alexander**

_Are we going to tell people?  Because I was going to put it in the group chat but I won’t if you’d rather wait._

**To: Group**

_So guess who got asked out by everyone’s favorite student from Nevis?_

**To: Alexander**

_There’s your answer._

**From: Alexander**

_I wanted to do that! :(_

**From: Angelica**

_OH MY GOD_

**From: Alexander**

_No, it’s fine._

**From: Lafayette**

_Félicitations à vous!_

**From: Mulligan**

_If you start being all cute and coupley I will be forced to kill you._

**From: Peggy**

_About time._

**From: Eliza**

_Yay!_

**From: Alexander**

_Angelica: it’s not worth screaming over.  Mulligan: thanks ever so.  I make no promises.  Laf: merci.  Peggy: what the hell is that supposed to mean?  Eliza: I know, right?_

**To: Group**

_Thanks, all.  Means a lot._

**From: Peggy**

_You all underestimate me.  I don’t talk, but I observe.  I see everything, including how head over heels you both were._

**From: Angelica**

_Okay, Pegs, that’s not creepy at all or anything._

**From: Peggy**

_I’ve done that for as long as I can remember.  Why do you think that no one could ever get away with anything at home?_

**From: Angelica**

_…we’ll talk later._

John laughed, and Aaron glared at him from across the room, face barely visible in the almost-dark room.

“I’m glad that you’re enjoying yourself, but some of us are trying to sleep here.  Keep it down, yeah?”

“Sorry.”  John plugged in his phone and curled up in bed, hugging his pillow tightly and wishing it was Alexander.  That was a little fast, he knew, but he could just tell that he and Alexander were meant to be, that they would be together for the rest of their lives.

* * *

The next day was Thursday, which meant that John didn’t have any classes with Alexander.  The core for his school required a science, so he was taking an archaeology class.  He had no background in, but it was very interesting.  There were two archaeology classes, one for the archaeology/anthropology majors and one for the non-majors.  Both had a mandatory lab with the class that met at the same time, though the labs were usually different.  That day was an exception, since some of the forensic anthropology grad students were running a human osteology lab.

John took a seat in front of what was most of a human skull.  This wasn’t anything that he would want to do for a career, but it was definitely intriguing.  And it was neat having the chance to take a class that was so different—it gave him the chance to learn something that he never would have otherwise, since he never would have needed to.

The class started off with a quick rundown of all the bones in the human body, then they moved into osteology exercises, ones that quickly made John very glad that he wasn’t a forensic anthropology major.  It was all interesting, of course, but it was also hard. 

* * *

When he finally got out of class, he pulled out his phone.  Luckily, the group chat had calmed down about him and Alexander now being a thing.

**To: Alexander**

_What are you up to?_

**From: Alexander**

_Editing my counterfactual for Cold War._

**To: Alexander**

_Want help?_

**From: Alexander**

_Please.  I’m in the library._

* * *

Alexander was in the main room of the library, bent over what John assumed was his essay.

“Give it here.”

Alexander shoved the paper at John, then grabbed a book and started devouring it. 

_The Korean War was one of the first “hot wars” following the creation of the atomic bomb and its use on Japan at the end of World War Two.  As such, the decision of whether or not to use the atomic bomb to resolve the conflict in Korea was a hot button issue.  If Truman had chosen to bring an end to the Korean War through the use of an atomic bomb, either the idea of mutually assured destruction could have come to fruition and the Cold War would have turned into a nuclear nightmare for the entire world or the world would be thrust into a third world war.  Additionally, the act would have destroyed not just the tenuous United States-Soviet Union relations, but the relations between the US and their other allies as well._

_Throughout the 1950s, both the United States and the Soviet Union were further developing their nuclear arsenal and fighting for a first strike capability over the other while simultaneously building up their second strike capabilities.  As a result, mutually assured destruction grew to be the best solution to the nuclear arms race.  Neither side could use their atomic weapons without fear of retaliation and subsequent escalation.  If the United States dropped an atomic bomb on Korea, where would the Soviets retaliate, across the world or closer to the US borders?  If closer to, or even within, US borders, how else could the United States respond but with yet another bomb, in the Soviet Union, perhaps over a major city—and the cycle would keep going.  It wouldn’t end until there were no more weapons or no more people to order the use of these weapons._

_From the start of the war, Truman had been thinking about the use of the atomic bomb, although he had to “assure a panicked Atlee that the United States had ‘no intention’ of doing so except to prevent a ‘major military disaster.’”.  The use of the bomb would have proved this reassurance false unless both sides could agree on what qualified as a “‘major military disaster,’” The failure to come to an agreement, meaning failure to see the bombing as justified, would have led to a distrust between the United States and Britain, destabilizing the close alliance between the two countries.  This would have caused problems for not just the governments, but for ordinary citizens as well.  During this time Britain was still relying heavily on US loans to help rebuild and restore their country post-World War II, and breaking off the close relationship could have had a heavy impact on that loan, and therefore the rebuilding of the country._

_In addition to jeopardizing relations between the United States and Britain, Truman would have run the risk of alienating his other allies.  The force in Korea was not just American troops, but a UN force sent in to combat what was seen as a threat to the peace established after World War II.  Consequently, the use of the atomic bomb ordered by the United States would have effects on all member countries.  Despite the order having come from the Americans, the presence of troops from several nations would have placed the price of dropping the bomb on the heads of all nations involved alongside the United States.  Considering that the order would have had to come from Truman in the face of what he considered a “major military disaster,” it would have been unlikely that he would have had the time to consult with other leaders and gain their approval for the plan.  As such, he would alienate his remaining allies, creating a three-way split between the United States, the Soviet Union, and the United States’ former allies as opposed to the existing bipolar Eastern world against the Western world.  Even without the threat of mutually assured destruction, former alliances would be turning on themselves and the world could fall into a new hot war, a possible World War III.   With the division of the West, the Soviet Union would have an advantage over the United States, one that they would be sure to exploit, if they hadn’t already dropped their own atomic bomb._

_There was a certain kind of trust between the leaders of the United States and the Soviet Union, one largely brought on by their own respective nuclear arsenals and the idea of game theory.  Either both would use their nuclear weapons, or both would refrain from doing such, and it was a delicate sort of dance to see what would end up happening.  As long as neither one used the weapons, they were both safe and the trust remained.  But as soon as one side dropped an atomic bomb, the trust was destroyed and nuclear weapons became fair playing pieces.  Even if both sides came out of the nuclear back-and-forth alive, there was no way that trust could possibly be regained.  Any chance of cordial relations between the United States and the Soviet Union would have been destroyed._

_In choosing to use the atomic bomb in Korea, Truman would have sealed the fate of his country, if not that of the entire world.  Even if mutually assured destruction hadn’t come to pass, he still would have alienated the United States from all potential allies by showing that they could not be trusted to not use the atomic bomb, could not be trusted to keep their word.  He would have led the world into either a nuclear winter or a third world war they were not equipped to handle, and there was no guarantee of who would come out alive at the other end._

“Alexander, your paper is good.  There’s really not much I can do with this.  I would say to just go ahead and submit it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.  Now, come on, Burr’s out on a date, so I have the room to myself.  We can cuddle and watch movies.”

“That sounds nice,” Alexander admitted, starting to pack his things up.

* * *

John chose Snowpiercer, another of his favorite movies, and by five minutes in, Alexander was draped across his lap, moaning softly as John ran his fingers through his hair.

As it turned out, Alexander was a great cuddler.  He liked being cuddled, mostly, being held.  John had a theory that that was related to his mother having died so young and his rough childhood, but he wasn’t about to say anything of the sort to Alexander.  Rather, he would just cuddle the hell out of his new boyfriend.  Alexander seemed to appreciate it, at least.

There was a lot of yelling and fighting on screen, and Alexander picked up his head to watch more closely.  “I like this.  The oppressed taking back their lives, challenging the established order of things.  Refusing to accept what they have been told is their place.  But the problem is that if this happened in real life it would fall apart.  We don’t have the same kind of unity even within our own classes, and we can’t even fix the problems tearing our country apart.  Racism, sexism, homophobia, hate crimes, police brutality…I don’t understand how anyone can say that America is the greatest country.  We’ve been arguing about that in my Cold War class, and so few people are willing to actually look at the problems, since they’re privileged.  It’s the mentally of ‘it doesn’t apply to me, so it’s not a problem.’  Makes me want to scream.”

John nodded before he realized that Alexander couldn’t actually see him.  “I understand that.  I’m from a wealthy family, and people seem completely willing to ignore skin color if there’s enough money involved, but there were people who didn’t know my family and treated me differently.  I got over it quickly, since I had to, but I agree that there are people here who don’t understand that they’re privileged, and that not everyone has been as lucky as them.”

Alexander turned around to look at John.  “We’re going to be quite the team, aren’t we?  John Laurens and Alexander Hamilton, combatting the problems in today’s society.  Look out world, here we come.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sort-of fluff before everything goes to hell yay!
> 
> Okay, so next chapter I will be ratting on Trump. Just fyi. I don’t want to debate politics with anyone (please), I just needed there to be a protest, and since we are in election season, this is what you get.
> 
> John’s relationship with Martha is based on my relationship with the older of my two brothers. I’m 19 and he’s 16, and we’re very close, always have been. He’s the only member of my immediate family (meaning my parents, and brothers) who knows that I’m agender—he’s sort of my confidante within my family. We have the same sense of humor and many of the same interests, so that was really the basis for the sibling relationship between John and Martha. I'm hoping to explore that more later on.
> 
> Félicitations à vous: Congratulations
> 
> Archaeology class and lab: the science requirement in the core is something that my school does, and archaeology/lab does fill that (luckily for the arch, anth, and forensic anth majors, for whom the class is a requirement for our majors). We weren’t split into classes by majors/non-majors, but we did go out in the field for lab when the weather was good enough. It was a lot of fun. The lab they do is something that we did, and I chose that one since I’m a forensic anthropology major, so the human osteology lab was my favorite. The things we did included determining age and sex from bones, figuring out height from leg bones, deciding if a bone was animal or human, and telling which bone a bone fragment was from. 
> 
> Alexander’s counterfactual was something that I actually wrote for my Cold War class. And, hey, got a 96 on it, so I guess the prof liked it. But, since it’s mine, there was a lot that I didn’t feel comfortable having John say about it. I mean, I can realize that it’s a good paper, but.
> 
> Snowpiercer is great. It’s one of my three favorite movies, along with Princess Bride and Captain America: The Winter Soldier.
> 
> Alexander’s “look out world” thing is a little cheesy, but it directly sets up the drama in the next chapter.
> 
> And, finally, because those mental age tests always put me a lot older than I really am, as of today I can say “only nineteen, but my mind is older.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff, a rally, and things go to hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ratting on Trump some in here. He deserves it.

**From: Alexander**

_Trump rally in town in a few weeks.  Up for protesting with me???_

**To: Alexander**

_Hell yes._

John grinned at his phone.  Alexander knew him so well.

“That Alexander?” Eliza asked.  “You have your ‘Alexander face’ on.”

“I do not have an ‘Alexander face,’” John protested.

“Yes, you do.”  Eliza fixed John with a firm stare.  “You totally have an Alexander face.  It’s sickening.  And adorable.  Sickeningly adorable.  You two are perfect for each other, I swear.  Did you know that you’re the only thing that will get Alexander to slow down, take a break?  The instant anyone says your name he’s looking for you.”

John sighed.  He could argue it all he wanted, but he knew that Eliza was right, as usual.  All three Schuyler sisters had a habit of being right, and while it was infuriating, it was something that he had learned to live with.

**From: Alexander**

_Did you know that if your roommate dies you get free tuition?  That’s one of two reasons that I’m not working myself to death here.  There’s no way I’m giving Thomas that satisfaction._

**To: Alexander**

_And what’s the other reason?_

**From: Alexander**

_You, of course, my dear John._

**To: Alexander**

_I should hope so!_

**From: Alexander**

_You’re the main reason._

**To: Alexander**

_< 3_

Eliza rolled her eyes.  “Are you and Alexander coming to Angelica’s party tonight?”

“Uh.”  John hadn’t actually thought about it.  Angelica, who had an off-campus apartment and could therefore have parties without worrying about the campus police, had invited everyone in the group chat a few days ago, but they hadn’t actually talked about it.

**To: Alexander**

_Do you want to go to Angelica’s party tonight?  It should be fun.  I mean, she always gets good alcohol, if nothing else._

**From: Alexander**

_Sure._

“We’ll be there,” John told Eliza.

“Great.  I’ve got to run; I’ll see you tonight.”  Eliza waved as she hurried off.

* * *

“I’ve never been to a party before,” Alexander admitted as he and John headed into Angelica’s apartment building.

“Really?  I didn’t go to many—my dad didn’t like me going and risking damaging his reputation—but I did go to a few.”

“Remember, I wasn’t exactly the most popular person before I came here.  Meaning that I had absolutely no friends because I was the exact definition of ‘pariah.’  So this is entirely new to me.”

John grinned.  “It’ll be fun.  It’s a small group—just me you, Laf, Mulligan, and the Schuyler sisters.  Apparently this happens at the beginning of every semester for whoever’s in Angelica’s group.  It’ll be fun, low-key.  Probably movies and drinking games.  I’m _really_ looking forward to seeing drunk Alexander.”

“What’s this about drunk Alexander?” Angelica said as she pulled the door open.  “That sounds simultaneously hugely entertaining and extremely frightening.”

“Exactly,” John said, pushing Alexander into the apartment.  “I’m excited about it.  Though, I hadn’t thought about it, but you’re right.  As always.  It could be frightening.”

“Guys, I’m right here,” Alexander complained as John led him to a couch.  “I can hear you talking about me.”

“Shush,” John ordered.

“Make me,” Alexander challenged, sounding a bit irritated.

John, knowing full well the best way to shut his boyfriend up, even if that wasn’t how Alexander had intended it, pulled him close and kissed him.

“My eyes!” Mulligan cried out overdramatically, dropping onto the other end of the couch.  John flipped him off without looking up, and Mulligan laughed. 

“Movie time!” Angelica said cheerfully.  “Or, more accurately, drinking game time.”

She explained the rules briefly, although everyone except Alexander already knew them, then started the movie.  They had all been assigned different things to drink to, in order to make it more interesting, and through some unlucky twist (really, John suspected that Angelica had planned it), Alexander got stuck with a very common one, putting him through many more drinks than the rest of them.

Alexander was a very affectionate drunk, John quickly learned as he found himself with a lapful of a boyfriend who demanded hugs and kisses and nuzzled his face into John’s neck whenever he wasn’t being kissed.  He was surprisingly quiet, but, then again, even sober Alexander didn’t talk through movies.

Two movies and a lot of alcohol later, the party was winding down, and Alexander was completely drunk.  On the other hand, John was almost entirely sober.  He hadn’t really drank all that much, since he knew that he would have to take care of Alexander.  The two of them were currently making their way back through campus,

“There’s no way that I’m letting you go back to your room like this—you’ll probably try to kill Thomas.”

“He deserves to be killed.”

“…that’s a talk for another time.  But, anyway, Aaron is staying with his girlfriend, like he does every weekend, so you’re going to stay with me.  I don’t want you doing anything stupid.”  And the idea of having a clingy Alexander in his room (in his bed?) all night was, honestly, a very appealing one.  John wasn’t going to lie to himself about that.

John sat down on the edge of his bed, and Alexander draped himself over John’s lap, nuzzling his face into John’s stomach, just above his belt buckle.

“My John.”

It was muffled by John’s stomach, but it was still audible, and John grinned.  He had to say, he was very fond of this version of Alexander, at least for the moment.

Alexander dragged a hand up John’s leg and over the crease of his hip until he ran into his own head.  John’s breath hitched. 

“Alexander…”

“Wanna touch you,” Alexander muttered.  “Wanna touch you everywhere.  Make you feel good.”

“Alexander.”  John wanted to say yes, he really did, but…  “You’re drunk.  I’m not letting you do this while you’re drunk.”

Alexander pouted, staring up at John with sad dark eyes.  “I wanna touch you.  Please, John?”  He drew out the please, adding the begging to his puppy dog eyes.

“No.  Come on, we’re going to go to bed, and I’ll cuddle you all you want.  Stand up?”

Alexander still looked heartbroken, but he stood anyway, watching John as he headed to his drawers. 

“Put these on,” John ordered, throwing a pair of sweatpants and a t shirt at Alexander.  “They’ll be more comfortable to sleep in than your jeans.”

As Alexander changed John did the same, and then he crawled into bed, holding out his arms to his boyfriend.  Alexander joined him, pressing his front again John and burying his face into John’s chest.  He didn’t say anything, just clung to John with all the tenacity of a barnacle.

John petted Alexander’s hair gently, then slipped his hand down to rub his shoulders and back.  He could feel the tension that Alexander carried, even when drunk, and he worked at getting the knots and tightness out of the smaller boy’s body.  As he worked, he could feel Alexander melting into him, and could hear his breaths evening out as he fell asleep still clinging to John.

* * *

John woke to a miserable Alexander wrapping his arms and legs around him, almost painfully tight.

“Alexander, sweetheart, you’ve gotta let me go.”

Alexander shook his head as best he could and tightened his grip.  “Never letting you go.  Don’t leave me.”

That sounded nice, but with how much Alexander had drank the night before, there was no way he wasn’t hungover.

“If you let me up I’ll get you water and painkillers.”

Alexander was quiet for a moment, then reluctantly loosened his grip, letting John wriggle his way out of his arms.

He returned as quickly as he could.  In the few moments that he had been up, Alexander had taken the blankets and wrapped them around himself, forming a cocoon.  Only his face was visible from inside the blankets.  He looked adorable.

John brought Alexander the things he had gotten, and he sat up to take them, before collapsing back down on the bed and holding out his arms for John.

They stayed in bed pretty much the rest of the day, getting up only to eat the poptarts that John had.  It was a good day.

* * *

The news was on in the dining hall, Trump was on the news, and Alexander looked about ready to scream.

“How can anyone think that that _imbecile_ would be a good president?” he demanded angrily.  “His policies are absurd, the United States can’t support this, and he’s a perfect example of ‘too big to fail,’ monetarily, at least—I mean, a _small loan_ of a _million dollars_?”  John knew exactly what was going through Alexander’s mind when he said that.  Sure enough, Alexander continued.  “I know what it’s like being pressed for money, and he’s going through nothing like that.  And his thing with immigrants…”

He looked terrified, and John completely understood.  Alexander had fought tooth and claw for his chance to be here, and the thought of being deported would have to be one of his worst nightmares.

“That’s why we’re going to the rally, remember?  Because this is something that’s important and we need to be able to change things.”

Alexander nodded, beaming.  “I can’t vote, since I’m not a United States citizen, but I can make an impact on this election in other ways.  Protesting is a good one.”

“That’s in a week,” John said cheerfully.  “Do we have signs?”

“I’m working on mine; I figured you’d want to do your own.  We can go back and do that now, if you want.  Thomas is out, thankfully.”

John nodded, standing and grabbing his coat.  “Let’s go.”

Alexander led John back to his room, and John was struck yet again by the stark difference between Thomas’ side of the room and Alexander’s.

Alexander pulled some large pieces of cardboard out of his closet and grabbed the markers off his desk.  He sat on the floor facing John, handing him a piece of cardboard, and set the markers between them.

John looked at Alexander’s sign, reading it upside.  “Immigrants—we get the job done,” he read.

Alexander smiled.  “Of course.  I’m going to make a difference here, and so many other immigrants already have.  He can’t treat us like less than human and threaten to send us out of the country as he benefits from a flawed system that we built.  Immigrants have been integral to the construction of the country, but we’ve always been used and abused.  There’s a song I like that touches on that.  ‘The McNicholas, the Posalskis, the Smiths, Zerillis too/The blacks, the Irish, Italian, the Germans and the Jews/They come across the water a thousand miles from home/With nothing in their bellies but the fire down below.’” 

He paused to take a breath, and John thought that the last line could have been written about Alexander.  It was clear from talking to him that he had nothing other than his drive to succeed and rise above the circumstances he had been born to.

“‘They died building the railroads, they worked to bones and skin/They died in the fields and factories, names scattered in the wind/They died to get here a hundred years ago, they’re still dying now/Their hands that built the country we’re always trying to keep out.’”

Alexander looked down at his sign, then flipped it over.  In careful block letters he wrote the second stanza that he had quoted on it.

John smiled, then got to work on his own sign.

* * *

The final week before the rally flew by, and before John was really sure what had happened to the time, he and Alexander were catching the bus into town. 

The stadium was packed, and John clutched his sign nervously.  He was excited and he knew that he was doing the right thing, but that didn’t make it any less nerve-wracking.

Alexander grabbed John’s hand, hopping up and down a bit.  “We’re going to do this!  We’re going to make a difference.”  He beamed at him, and that smile made John’s nerves settle somewhat.  He was with Alexander.  Everything would be okay.

They found their seats, still clutching their signs closely—they couldn’t get kicked out until _after_ Trump showed up.

As it turned out, they didn’t have long to wait.  Trump’s arrival was heralded by a deafening roar, and Alexander winked at John.

Everything Trump said was, for the most part, greeted with a cry of approval, and Alexander would take opportunities to whisper scathing remarks into John’s ear.

It wasn’t that much longer until they got noticed and the guards came to get them out.  As they were leaving, Trump made some remark about immigration, and Alexander spun around.

“Here’s something you need to understand,” he called, voice ringing through the sudden hush.  “Your stance on immigrants is completely wrong.  _I’m_ an immigrant and I’ve been here for all of three months, but I’ve done more than you ever have and ever will.  I wrote my way out of hell.  I worked harder than you could imagine for everything I have.”

Knowing full well the demographic that they were surrounded by, John rushed to Alexander and gave his boyfriend a kiss full of pride.  He knew that Alexander would be the one making a real difference in everything that he did, and he didn’t care if someone got a video and it got back to his dad.  He was past caring.  Alexander was so brave, and so John could be, too.

A guard grabbed John and pulled him free of Alexander, but he underestimated how much John was holding Alexander.  As a result, when John was pulled away, Alexander lost his balance and fell, hitting his head as he went down.

John saw blood and panicked.  Alexander had to be okay.

* * *

A lot was a blur from there on out.  The next thing that John could remember clearly, he was collapsed in a chair in the waiting room of the hospital, head in his hands and his heart racing.  He had no idea how long he had been there, and his phone was dead, so he couldn’t check or reach out to any of his other friends.

More time passed—John didn’t know how long.  Eventually, a nurse stepped into the waiting room.

“Alexander Hamilton?”

John was up like a flash.  “Is he okay?  Can I see him?”

The nurse nodded, leading John out of the waiting room.  “Head wounds bleed a lot, so it looked a lot worse than it really was.”  He paused outside the room.  “He’s awake.”

John took a deep breath, then entered the room as the nurse held the door open.  Alexander turned his head to look at John, face lighting up.  He opened his mouth, but couldn’t get out more than the first sound of John’s name.

“Is that normal?” John asked the nurse, not wanting to panic if the situation didn’t call for it.

The nurse frowned.  “It could be a side effect of the painkillers, or, possibly, the anesthesia we had him under while we stitched up his head, but it’s more common for them to not make sense while on the meds, not be unable to talk.  It could be a complication of head trauma, but it’s too soon to make that call.”

Alexander looked panicked.  He tried again to say John’s name, to no avail.  He looked like there was more that he wanted to say, but, for whatever reason, it wasn’t working.

John was going to cry.  Somehow his Alexander was broken and it was terrifying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no, poor Alexander. I wonder what’s wrong… (Okay, I know, but.)
> 
> So, I’m going to try to keep chapters coming as quickly as possible, but my semester is underway, and I don’t know how much free time I’ll have with my class load (I’ve got intro to religious studies, Latin, physical anthropology, and calculus, and these might find their way into the story somehow. We’ll see). I promise to update as often as I can, though.
> 
> I can’t speak for the free tuition if your roommate dies at other schools, but I know that’s a thing at my school. Back when I had a roommate we used to joke about who was going to kill whom.
> 
> Disclaimer: there will be no explicit sex in this. I can’t write it. I’m going to change the rating soon, but not for sex. Sorry about that, if porn’s your cup of tea.
> 
> I can imagine Alex being all fired up about the elections, and pissed as anything that he doesn’t have citizenship and therefore can’t vote.
> 
> The song that Alexander quotes is American Land by Bruce Springsteen.
> 
> I’ve never been to a political rally, so I’m sort of going off clips that I’ve seen on the internet. Sorry if it’s all wrong. Also, I’m not necessarily against Republicans as individuals (I’m registered Democrat, but my dad and both my granddads are Republican and I love them dearly), but some of their ideas are so stupid. My particular soapbox is equality—LGBT+ rights especially, but feminism and black lives matter, too, a lot.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They find out what's wrong.

John was back visiting Alexander as often as he could, always alone—he didn’t allow any of the others to come with him.  Alexander seemed too panicked still, and, to be honest, John wasn’t about to let any of the others see his boyfriend in his vulnerable state.  The doctors still weren’t sure what was wrong; they were waiting until Alexander could be taken off medication to see if the problem was at all related to that.

It was at the end of a very stressful school day when John got to Alexander’s room only to discover that Alexander wasn’t actually there.  Naturally, John panicked, running into the hallway and grabbing the first passing nurse.

“Do you know where Alexander Hamilton is?  He’s supposed to be in that room, and I’m supposed to know if they check him out.”

“They took him in for an MRI, see if they can figure out what’s going on,” the nurse explained, and John nodded, biting his lip.

Not wanting to sit alone in Alexander’s hospital room, and not being sure if he was allowed to, anyway, John wandered back out to the waiting room, where, out of nerves more than anything, he called Lafayette.

“Is Alexander okay?” Lafayette asked immediately, a note of worry evident in his voice.  The rest of the group had respected John’s wishes and had stayed away from hospital, despite how clearly it put them all on edge.  They understood that staying away was for Alexander just as much as it was for John, and so they got all their updates from John’s texts and occasional phone calls.

“I don’t know, Laf,” John admitted.  “He’s getting an MRI now, to see if they can figure out what happened to him.  I’m just scared about that, though it’s probably nothing.  It has to be nothing, right?”

“I certainly hope so,” came Lafayette’s reply.

A harried-looking nurse entered the waiting room and headed over to John.  Most of the nurses who worked with Alexander knew John by that point, seeing as he was almost always at the hospital.

“I have to go,” John said, and hung up before Lafayette could say anything further.

“Is he okay?” he asked, and the nurse’s moment of hesitation told him more than anything she could have possibly said.

“Can I see him?  Please?”

The nurse nodded.  “He’s panicking.  We need you now, since you’re the best bet we have of calming him down again.  We didn’t want to tell him what was wrong until we had you there, but he inferred that it was bad and freaked out on us.”

She headed towards Alexander’s hospital room, and John followed on her heels, heart pounding.  When they entered the room, John’s eyes immediately went to Alexander.  His face was stained with tears and he was clearly hyperventilating.  Another nurse was trying to calm him down, to no avail. 

There was a hitch in Alexander’s breathing as John locked eyes with him, but it wasn’t enough to calm him down entirely.

The nurse stepped aside, allowing John to sit beside the bed and hold his boyfriend’s hand.  It was a few long minutes, but eventually Alexander’s breathing returned to normal.  Once this happened, John looked up at the nurses.  While John was helping Alexander settle, one of them had gone to get a doctor, not one that John recognized.  In the doctor’s hands was a folder, one that John assumed held the results of Alexander’s scan.

“Mr. Hamilton,” the doctor said, shaking Alexander’s hand, then offering his hand to John.  “And you are?”

“John Laurens.  His boyfriend.”

The doctor nodded.  “Nice to meet you both.  Now, as you know, Mr. Hamilton obtained serious head trauma following a fall.  This then caused some sort of brain trauma, which is what we need to now discuss.”  He opened the folder in his hands and flipped through it briefly.  “What do you either of you know about the brain?”

“Next to nothing,” John admitted, and Alexander nodded his agreement.

“Well, there is an area of the brain called Broca’s Area, and this area has a part in speech production.  Following strokes, or, in some cases, brain trauma, this area can be affected in a negative way, a condition called Broca’s Aphasia.  Comprehension can to be relatively preserved, as it seems to be in Mr. Hamilton, but speech itself is not.  Patients with Broca’s Aphasia typically find speaking and writing difficult, and—Mr. Hamilton, are you okay?”

John turned to look at Alexander, and felt his heart break when he saw the tears streaming down his boyfriend’s face.  That was hardly a surprise, given who Alexander was, but it was no less heartbreaking.  John squeezed Alex’s hand.

“Speaking and writing is pretty much Alexander’s life,” John explained, and Alexander nodded in agreement.

The doctor looked sympathetic.  “We don’t as yet know a full treatment for Broca’s Aphasia, but there is speech therapy that has been proven to help.  I would recommend starting this as soon as possible, as it is more effective the earlier it is started.  There are also computer programs and apps that can help.”

“Can’t…” Alexander began, looking frustrated as he struggled to find and say the words he wanted.  “Money.  Can’t.”

“You can’t afford it?” the doctor asked, and Alexander nodded, not meeting his eyes.  John knew full well that his status was something that Alexander was ashamed of, not that he had any control over it.

“There are ways we can try to work things out,” the doctor began, but John cut in.

“Alexander.  You have rich friends.  My family’s old money, the Schuyler family is old money, Lafayette is goddamn French nobility.  I know that you don’t want charity, and we will let you succeed on your own, but take this.  Let us help pay for your therapy.  Please.”

Alexander set his jaw, glaring at John, who glared back.  He wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“Yes,” Alexander murmured eventually, backing down. 

“Thank you,” John replied.

“Mr. Laurens, can I speak with you in private for a moment?” the doctor asked.

John looked back at Alexander, who nodded, so he followed the doctor out of the room.  “What is it?  Is there something more that you don’t want Alexander to know?”

The doctor shook his head.  “No, it’s not that.  It’s just that this pertains directly to you, not to him.  I’m going to give you this, and if you could pass it on to any other of Mr. Hamilton’s friends and teachers, that would be appreciated.”

He handed John a piece of paper, and John quickly read it over.

_If you live with or care for a person with aphasia, you may be unsure about the best way to communicate with them. You may find the following advice helpful:_

  * _After speaking, allow the person plenty of time to respond. If a person with aphasia feels rushed or pressured to speak, they may become anxious, which can affect their ability to communicate._
  * _Use short, uncomplicated sentences and do not change the topic of conversation too quickly._
  * _Avoid asking open-ended questions. Closed questions that have a yes or no answer can be better._
  * _Avoid finishing a person's sentences or correcting any errors in their language. This may cause resentment and frustration for the person with aphasia._
  * _Keep distractions to a minimum, such as background radio or TV noise._
  * _Use paper and a pen to write down key words or draw diagrams or pictures to help reinforce your message and support their understanding._
  * _If you do not understand something a person with aphasia is trying to communicate, do not pretend you understand. The person may find this patronizing and upsetting._
  * _Use visual references, such as pointing, gesturing and using objects, to support their understanding._
  * _If they are having difficulty finding the right word, prompt them – ask them to describe the word, think of a similar word, try to visualize it, think of the sound the word starts with, try to write the word, use gestures or point to an object._



“As I said earlier, Mr. Hamilton seems to have high comprehension, so some of these are not as applicable.  However, do follow them.  It is extremely frustrating for someone with this condition to try and communicate, and I believe that could be worse for him, seeing as you said that speaking and writing is important to him.  Having strong support will be important.”

John nodded.  “Can I take him home?”

“You can,” the doctor confirmed.  “We’ll set him up for speech therapy, but there’s no purpose in him staying here anymore.”

John reentered the room, and Alexander looked up at him.  He had clearly been crying, not that John could blame him.

“We’re going home,” John murmured, and Alex nodded, walking over and burying his face in John’s shoulder.  John rubbed his boyfriend’s back for a moment, then kissed the top of his head.  “You ready?”

Alexander laced his fingers with John’s, and together they headed out to John’s car in the parking garage. 

* * *

Instead of going back to Alexander’s dorm, John parked in front of Angelica’s apartment.

“What?” Alexander asked, looking at John in confusion.

“I was supposed to come here once I left the hospital,” John explained.  “They’re worried about you, and I know that they’d love to see you.  Are you up for it?  We can leave if you’re not.”

After a long moment, Alexander nodded and followed John up the stairs.

“John!  You’re early,” Angelica exclaimed as she opened the door.

“I brought a guest,” John replied, stepping into the apartment with Alexander, who hadn’t let go of his hand since they had got out of the car.

Angelica shrieked and hugged Alexander, who smiled and let go of John long enough to hug her back.

“Guys!  Alexander is here!” Angelica said happily as she entered the living room.  Everyone had a similar reaction to seeing him as Angelica had, and Alexander returned all their hugs, although as soon as they were done he reattached himself to John.

“We weren’t expecting you for another couple hours, honestly, so we’re starting a movie,” Mulligan said.  “Peter Pan sound good?”

“I love Peter Pan,” John said excitedly, and Alexander nodded.  He pushed John onto the couch and sat on his lap, nestling his head under John’s chin.

As the movie started, John absentmindedly played with Alexander’s hair until his boyfriend was practically purring.  It was adorable.  And almost better was the fact that John could feel the stress leaving Alexander’s body as he melted into John’s touch and embrace. 

Too soon, the movie was over, and Eliza hopped up to change the movie.  “What should we watch next?”

“Tangled,” Mulligan suggested immediately, then shrugged defensively when everyone turned to stare at him.  “What?  It’s a good movie!”

“It is, though,” Peggy agreed.

“I think we should let Alexander choose,” Lafayette suggested, and everyone agreed, turning to look at Alexander, who buried his face in John’s chest.  John understood—Alexander wasn’t ready to try to talk in front of everyone.

“You’re very quiet tonight,” Eliza said, not realizing the significance of her words.  “What happened to our Alexander who never shuts up?”

Alexander sat up and whipped around with a fire that John hadn’t seen in him since before his accident, and Eliza raised her eyebrows.

“Words.  Not good,” he said slowly, clearly frustrated, and then patted John’s chest, silently telling him to continue with the explanation.

“There’s a condition called Broca’s Aphasia,” John began, trying his best to explain for their friends, all of whom were looking at the pair with concern.  “It affects speech formation, as well as writing, makes both extremely difficult.”

Eliza covered her mouth with a hand, looking shocked.  “Oh god, Alexander.  I’m so sorry.”

Alexander shrugged, though John could tell how much of a lie that nonchalance was.  Alexander had just lost what was essentially his whole life—and, now that John actually thought about it, he had lost what had dragged him out of poverty in the Caribbean.  It really was his entire life that was gone, and in a way that none of the others would ever be able to understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have absolutely no knowledge of how hospitals work; this is all made up. Sorry if it’s entirely incorrect. I also completely made up how long it would take to get MRI results back. I needed it to be quick for story flow purposes, but I don’t know how long it would really be.
> 
> My main source for the Broca’s Aphasia can be found here: http://www.aphasia.org/aphasia-resources/brocas-aphasia/. I am, however, going to copy and paste a lot of the significant information here, although much of it was in the chapter proper.
> 
> “Individuals with Broca’s aphasia have trouble speaking fluently but their comprehension can be relatively preserved. […] Patients have difficulty producing grammatical sentences and their speech is limited mainly to short utterances of less than four words. Producing the right sounds or finding the right words is often a laborious process. Some persons have more difficulty using verbs than using nouns. […] Individuals with this type of aphasia may be able to read but be limited in writing.”
> 
> Basically, Alex will be able to understand what is being said to him (I wanted to keep that, because it makes writing easier and I’m both lazy and pressed for time), but he can’t easily speak or write. I chose this because Alexander Hamilton, as we all know, both once talked for six hours and wrote non-stop. Basically, I chose Broca’s Aphasia on complete purpose.
> 
> I took the list the doctor gives John from here: http://www.nhs.uk/Conditions/Aphasia/Pages/Treatment.aspx.
> 
> Also, if I’m portraying this wrong, please tell me. I want to be able to do the best that I can, and if you have any information to help me out, please let me know.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes things have to get worse before they can get better.

“Are you sure that you don’t want me to go with you?” John asked as they waited for Alexander’s first therapy appointment.

Alexander nodded, jaw set.  “Mine.”  He took a deep breath.  “Not yours.  All mine.”

John understood.  This was Alexander’s battle to fight, and John would be there every step of the way, but only as long as Alexander wanted him there.  He would never force Alexander to accept any help that he didn’t want.

“Hamilton?” a woman asked, and Alexander squeezed John’s hand before standing and following her.

John had brought work to do while he waited for Alexander, but he found himself completely unable to focus on it.  He was too worried about Alexander, as were all their other friends.  Alexander had almost entirely shut everyone except John out, much to everyone’s concern.  He hadn’t mentioned it at all, regardless of how many times John had asked, but John assumed that it was something like he didn’t want to seem weak, that he didn’t like having to struggle for words.  He couldn’t blame Alexander, really.  John thought that his boyfriend was handling the situation remarkably, especially given how much his speaking and writing skills meant to him; he was sure that he would be nowhere near as good in the same situation.

Trying to distract himself through any means possible, John pulled up a game on his phone.  He had died three times before he decided that the entire endeavor was worthless and pulled his Spotify, plugged in his earbuds, and closed his eyes.

About half an hour later, a tap on his shoulder caused John to nearly jump out of his skin.  Alexander stood in front of him, the woman who had come to get him earlier nearby.

Alexander opened his mouth, then turned to look at the woman and shut it again, gesturing for her to speak to John.

“I was wondering if I could speak to you and Alexander for a moment,” she said.

Heart pounding, John nodded and stood. 

She led both boys back to her office and sat on one of the couches in the room after closing the door.  John and Alexander sat on the other couch.

“My name is Dr. Reynolds; I’m Alexander’s therapist.” 

John bit his lip, and she looked amused.

“I’m assuming that you’re nervous about this meeting?” 

John nodded, and Dr. Reynolds grinned.  “There’s nothing to be nervous about.  If my patients okay it, I speak with whoever brings them to sessions once we are done with that.  An update on their progress, I suppose you could call it.”

Alexander shifted slightly to lean on John.  With the angle he chose, John could feel his boyfriend’s heart pounding wildly.  He laced his fingers with Alexander’s, and Alexander didn’t smile, not exactly—he’d barely smiled since the accident—but he did look somewhat happier than he had before.  John kissed his forehead before turning back to Dr. Reynolds, who was watching them with a tender expression.

“Now, as for Alexander’s session, it went very well.”

Alexander made a noise of disagreement, and Dr. Reynolds shook her head.  “I know that you don’t think so, but it really did.  As fragmented as your speech is, it is much better than it could be.  I think that you’re just too stubborn to stay down.”

John burst out laughing, and Alexander glared at him.

“I’m sorry, but it’s true,” John said, trying to stop laughing.

“I would recommend twice-weekly sessions, if that works for your schedule, Alexander” Dr. Reynolds said once John stopped laughing.  “The more we work, the better your progress will be.”

Alexander nodded, glancing at John.  “I can drive you pretty much whenever,” John said.  “And if I can’t, one of our other friends can.  I know you’ve been avoiding them, but they do care about you.”

John could see the momentary concern evident on Alexander’s face, but then he nodded.

“That’s pretty much all I need to talk to you two about,” Dr. Reynolds said.  “The only thing left to do is schedule Alexander’s next appointment.”

Scheduling was easy enough and done quickly, and soon Alexander and John were headed back to campus.

“Our other friends really do miss you, you know,” John said, glancing over at Alexander.

“Sorry.”  Alexander was examining his folded hands closely, not looking back at his boyfriend.  “Stress…loud.  Words.  Too many.  Not many.”  He frowned, chewing on his lip.

John took a minute to try and sort through what Alexander had just said.  “They talk too much and…you can’t?” he guessed.

Alexander looked over, meeting John’s eyes for a minute before John looked back to the road.  “Yes.”

“They’re not going to care, you know.  They love you for who you are, not just for your words.  That’s what good friends do.”

“ _I_ care.”

John found that he really didn’t have a response to that.  He knew that words meant everything to Alexander, so losing them would have completely torn him apart.  He had been over this in his head before, many times, but that wasn’t quite the same as having a heartbroken and silent Alexander sitting next to him, refusing to even go near the friends that loved him completely and unconditionally.  John would do anything to fix this, but, at the same time, he knew that there was nothing he could do.  And it was tearing him apart.

* * *

John was about ready to slam his head into his desk.  He had been staring at his computer screen for at least two hours trying to write an essay for his American government and economics class.  The prompt was about the significance of having a national bank, something that should have been simple enough, but the words just weren’t coming.  John wondered briefly if that was how Alexander felt all the time, but shook his head.  That line of thinking was both extremely depressing and of absolutely no use to his current situation.

A few feet away, his phone chimed with his text tone for Alexander, but John ignored it.  His work was more important than whatever it was that his boyfriend wanted, since it was probably just asking John to come over and cuddle or something.  Alexander had been asking that all the time since getting out of the hospital.  John wasn’t sure, but he assumed that it was most likely something to do with feeling insecure and needing to be reminded that he was loved.

When his phone went off several more times, John decided that he should probably figure out what was going on.  Alexander wouldn’t text that many times if he was just feeling lonely.

**From: Alexander**

_Come._

**From: Alexander**

_Please._

**From: Alexander**

_Now._

**From: Alexander**

_John._

**From: Alexander**

_SOS._

**From: Alexander**

_I can’t._

John panicked, scrambling away from his desk and trying to find his shoes.  Aaron looked at him strangely, but just shook his head, refraining from commenting.

Getting to Alexander’s dorm took a few minutes, and a bit of waiting for someone to open the door so he could get into the building, but soon enough John was standing outside Alexander and Thomas’s room. 

He was about to knock when he heard Thomas’s voice.  He couldn’t tell what it was he was saying, but the tone didn’t sound good, so John simply burst into the room.

It took Thomas a moment to notice that John was there, so John caught at least some of what he was saying.

“What good are you now, bastard?  Full ride who lost what got him his scholarship, who—”

He noticed John and cut off abruptly.  The two boys had never gotten along, since their personalities clashed harshly, but Thomas had never made John this angry before—and that was before John turned to Alexander, only to see him curled into a ball on his bed, tears streaming down his face.

“Get out,” John snarled.

“This is my room, and _I’m_ the only one here who’s actually paying for it,” Thomas replied smugly.  “You can’t kick me out.”

John punched him, square in the jaw.

After he recovered, Thomas stormed out, saying something about going to the administration about assault.

As soon as he was gone, John rushed to Alexander.  “Was it all like that?”

Alexander nodded, then buried his face in John’s chest, sobbing.

John stroked Alexander’s hair gently.  “It’s going to be okay, I promise.  Whatever he said, it wasn’t true, not at all.”

Alexander shook his head.  “Was.”

“Don’t you dare say that,” John ordered.

Alexander glared at John.  “ _Was_.”

John thought back to the little he had heard from Thomas.  He had to admit, harsh as it was, it was _technically_ true.  Alexander’s words had been what had got him to the United States and into college, and he had definitely lost those, for the most part.

“Well, don’t listen to him.  He’s only trying to make you mad.”

Alexander didn’t respond, just curled further into John, leaning into his touch and warmth.  John knew that Alexander was seeking comfort and trying to avoid having the discussion that John was trying to have, but, honestly, he couldn’t blame him.

“Do you want to stay here, or do you want to go back to my room?” John asked gently, knowing that it wouldn’t be good for either of them to be there when Thomas returned.  He had already made Alexander cry, and John couldn’t promise that he wouldn’t punch him again.

“You.”

John grabbed Alexander’s phone and a few other things while Alexander pulled on his shoes and coat.  Then they headed back to John’s building.

* * *

Aaron glanced up at them when they entered.  “Alexander.”

“Sir,” Alexander replied after a pause, and John shook his head.  Even losing his words hadn’t decreased Alexander’s sass towards John’s roommate.

“Is everything okay?” Aaron asked John.  “You tore out of here like a bat out of hell.”

“Thomas was giving Alexander a hard time,” John said cautiously.  Aaron was a sort-of friend to John and his group, but he also occasionally hung out with Thomas and James, so there was no way of knowing what he would carry to them.

Aaron nodded.  “I can see that.  Thomas has never liked him—sorry, Alexander, but you know it’s true.”

Alexander shrugged.  John was about to say something, but then he realized that it wasn’t an insult, merely a statement of fact, which, he assumed by Alexander’s reaction, he had realized as well.

Aaron continued.  “Knowing that, and knowing Thomas, I’m not surprised that he took the first opportunity he had to tear you down, Alexander.  It’s in Thomas’s nature to want to be the best, the top.  You were a direct challenge to him.  He sees this as a victory.”

* * *

Alexander stayed in John’s room that night, curled up next to him in the narrow twin bed.  Aaron said nothing about it, presumably understanding the situation.  When John woke, however, Alexander was gone.

In a moment of panic, John grabbed his phone.

**To: Alexander**

_Where are you?_

The reply came a few minutes later, as if Alexander had been struggling with putting the words together.

**From: Alexander**

_Room.  Work to do._

John couldn’t help but worry.  Alexander was in his own room, which meant that he was alone with Thomas again.  At the same time, though, John knew that he couldn’t protect Alexander in everything—for all he was struggling with words and everything that came with that, Alexander was a college student, not a child, and John wasn’t his parent.  He just had to trust Alexander to make the best choices for himself and ask for help if he needed it.

* * *

The next week or so scared John.  Alexander was even quieter than usual.  Since the accident he had pretty much only talked when spoken to, and had avoided the members of their friend group who weren’t John.  Now, however, he never talked, verbally or over text, and John hardly ever saw him.

After one of his classes, to John’s extreme surprise, James Madison pulled him aside. 

“I shouldn’t be telling you this,” he muttered, “but Thomas is treating Alexander worse than ever.  You punching him only escalated the situation.  And Thomas told me—I really shouldn’t be sharing this; it’s not my business, but you need to know—that he’s gone through the graded papers in Alexander’s bag, and Alexander’s grades are dropping significantly because of his struggle with words.  Thomas is thrilled, because this means that Alexander is going to lose his scholarship and won’t be able to come back next semester.”

John clenched his hands into fists.  He was mad at James for letting Thomas get away with mistreating Alexander, but, at the same time, James had risked Thomas’s anger to tell John what was going on.

“Thank you.”

Thomas Jefferson, however, John was _furious_ with.  He couldn’t treat anyone like that, especially Alexander, who couldn’t even really defend himself.  No wonder Alexander had become so withdrawn over the past week.

**To: Alexander**

_Come down to my room?  I miss my boyfriend._

John hurried back, hoping that Alexander would actually show up.

It took about fifteen minutes, but Alexander did, in fact, show up at John’s room.

“I heard about Thomas.  From James Madison, of all people.  My god, Alexander, why didn’t you tell me?”  John’s words came out more harshly than he had intended them, and he winced,

Alexander stared at his feet and didn’t answer.

“Alexander, sweetheart, please,” John pleaded.

“Leaving.”

“What?”

“School.  Can’t.  Leaving.”  The pause between each word was long and painful.  When John realized what Alexander was trying to say, he sat bolt upright.

“Alexander, no!  This is what you’ve worked so hard for, and you can’t just leave now.”  John stopped for a moment.  “Is this because of Jefferson?”

Alexander shook his head.  “Classes.  Money.  Can’t.”

John remembered what James had said about Alexander’s grades and the probability of him losing his scholarship, and he understood what Alexander was getting at. 

“Are you sure, Alexander?  What happens if you leave?  Will you go back to the Caribbean?”

Alexander very slowly nodded, looking embarrassed. 

“That’s not going to happen.  You’re going to stay here.  We can get an off-campus apartment together, and then you can stay.  Besides, from what you told me about where you’re from, I don’t think you would get good treatment there, if any.  You have to stay.”

“Money.”

“I’ll pay for it,” John said.  “My family is rich, remember?  Don’t you dare argue with me.  It’s non-negotiable.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First and foremost, I have News that will affect this story. Nothing major or bad; I just need to let you guys know that I will probably be taking a hiatus from Eyes (and Glory, if you’ve read that) during April. This is because I’m doing Camp NaNoWriMo during April and getting some more work done on My Novel (capitalized because it’s a big deal to me). I won NaNo proper with that shit, which means that it’s already 50,000 words. I plan on writing another 30,000 during Camp NaNo, which means a thousand words a day, more than I’ve written consistently since NaNo ended. That being said, with how much work I’m going to have to do on KT, I’m not sure if I’ll be up for working on Eyes or Glory. I’ll update if I feel up to working on them, but I make no promises.
> 
> Next order of business: you guys are amazing. Honestly. I scream every time that I get a new comment; it makes me so happy that you guys are engaging with this and everything. My Tumblr is smallinsaneone if any of you want to come talk to me there—I’d probably dance around my dorm screaming hysterically or some shit like that.
> 
> Okay, enough of that. 
> 
> I really hope that I’m portraying Broca’s Aphasia correctly. Like, if you catch that I’m not, please come tell me. I’d appreciate it so much. Trying to write Alex is making me so nervous.
> 
> Thomas Jefferson is a dick, in case you hadn't noticed.
> 
> Finally, we’re coming up on some pretty heavy (and potentially very triggering) stuff. Since it’s mostly from an outsider’s point of view, I’m not changing the tags, but I will put warnings in the start notes of each chapter. If I don’t warn for anything you would like me to, let me know and I’ll gladly add a warning for it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Alexander get both their new apartment and a visitor.

Moving Alexander out of his dorm was depressingly easy.  John hated the physical reminder of how poor Alexander was, how little he had and how old and worn it was, but at least it meant less time packing, less time moving boxes, less time around Jefferson, who gloated as the two boys carried things out. 

The only reason that John didn’t punch Thomas was because he didn’t need to give Thomas another reason to claim John had assaulted him—John had gotten away with it once, but he wasn’t sure that his claims of provoked assault in defense of a friend would do any good.

Alexander hadn’t seen the apartment yet.  John had chosen it on his own, then decorated it on his own as well, taking Alexander’s posters from his dorm room in addition to the posters from his own room and purchasing new things.  He had wanted to make it perfect for Alexander, and he was so excited for his boyfriend to see it.

“We’re going shopping later on,” John said to Alexander.  “You have next to nothing, and I want to spoil you.”  Beyond the presents already waiting for Alexander at the apartment, of course.

Alexander shook his head.  “No.”

“Why?”

“Money.  Too much.”

John turned to face Alexander, putting down the box that he was carrying.  “Alexander.  When I say I want to spoil you, I mean it.  You know that I’m from old money, but I don’t think you know just how much money.  My family is insanely rich, and I’m the oldest, the heir.  No one checks the money that I’m spending, because it’s really not a concern.”

Alexander stared at John in disbelief, and John remembered that Alexander came from a background where that kind of money was obscene and unheard of.

“Nevis.  Your family…people…tourists.  Hated,” Alexander began, then his eyes widened and he shook his head.  “Don’t hate.  You.”

“No, I understand what you’re saying.”  And John did.  He actually had vacationed in all sorts of destinations for rich tourists, the resorts set in the middle of some of the poorest areas, with the locals working the resorts.  He had always tried to be kind to the workers (unlike his father, who wasn’t kind to anyone who couldn’t get him some kind of political gain), but he had never thought about it from the perspective of the people who lived in those areas.  He remembered Alexander saying a while ago how the island children had been treated, remembered how his father and most other tourists had treated the locals, and could completely see where Alexander had hated the tourists.

Alexander looked uncomfortable and kicked lightly at the box that John had been carrying.  John picked it back up, carrying it to his car and shoving it in the trunk alongside the box Alexander held.

“That’s it, which means we can head out now.”

Alexander nodded, sliding into the passenger seat and hooking John’s iPod up to the car’s speakers.

The drive to their new apartment was to the soundtrack of some Broadway show that John had seen a year earlier, one that Alexander loved the music to.  John wished he could take Alexander, but the show had closed, so that was out.

They were only a few songs into the soundtrack when they pulled up outside the apartment complex.  Alexander got out of the car and headed back to start getting boxes out, but John intercepted him at the trunk.

“I want you to see the place, first.”

Alexander just looked at John for a moment, then nodded, allowing John to lead him into the building.

Their apartment was on an upper level, and although there was a bank of waiting elevators, John chose to lead Alexander up the stairs.

“Close your eyes,” John commanded as they stood outside the door, and Alexander rolled his eyes, but did it anyway.

John unlocked the door, then took Alexander’s hand and led him through the hall entryway and into the living room.  “You can open your eyes now,” he said.

Alexander did so, and looked around, a huge smile spreading across his face.  John had to admit that he was very proud of his decorating, and it looked like Alexander liked it.

There were pride flags hanging on one wall—one gay pride, the other bisexual.  Next to them hung the flag of Saint Kitts and Nevis—“I can take that down, if you want,” John rushed to say.  “I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about it.”  Alexander shook his head, still smiling.

“Good.  Hid, but home.”

There was also a South Carolina flag—for all John complained about his home state, he still had his Southern pride.  He thought that it was similar to Alexander and Nevis.

On the wall opposite the flags, John had hung framed pictures.  There were ones of him and Alexander, as well as ones of him, Alexander, or both with their other friends.

“Like,” Alexander said through his smile.

“Good.  Come on, there’s more.”

John pulled Alexander into the bedroom.  “We don’t have to share, but I sort of assumed…”

Alexander nodded, and John smiled.  “Good.”

The walls were decorated with the posters from both John’s and Alexander’s dorm room, and, on the wall closest to the bed, were two pictures.  One was the photograph of Alexander and his mother, and the other was John with his mother and siblings.

Alexander ran his hand over the dark red quilt on the bed, carefully not looking at John, and John panicked for a moment.  Had he crossed some unknown boundary with displaying the pictures, even in a private space, or something similar?  Then Alexander looked up, eyes shining with tears, and smiled.

“Perfect.  Thank.”

“Of course, sweetheart.  I was thinking that maybe tomorrow we could have everyone over for a housewarming party, if that’s okay with you?  It would be Laf, Mulligan, and the Schuyler sisters—no one who doesn’t already know and love you.  It’s up to you, though, and it’s perfectly fine to say no.”

Alexander bit his lip, then nodded.  “Okay.”

“Great.  I’ll give them a call, but let’s bring your stuff and get you unpacked first.”

* * *

Once they were done unpacking, and after John had invited their friends over, John took Alexander shopping, as promised.  It went well, Alexander not fighting John about money, for once.  The only hard parts were when a well-meaning employee at one of the stores tried to strike up a conversation with Alexander and when some bigot shouted at the two of them for holding hands.

John hadn’t been kidding when he said that he was going to spoil Alexander.  Anything that Alexander liked, they got, especially winter clothes (John couldn’t get over how adorable Alexander was in a sweater a size too large, folding his hands over the extra fabric in the sleeves to make sweater paws).

When they got back to the apartment they put Alexander’s new things away then put on a movie, sat on the couch, and cuddled.  It was nice.

* * *

John had underestimated just how much work was needed for a housewarming party, although that was mostly because he didn’t want this to be just another college party, no matter how fun those were.  He wanted it to be a proper, grown-up party—he and Alexander were, after all, the youngest people living in their building, and he didn’t want to piss off the neighbors. 

Alexander was in the kitchen making some kind of Caribbean food from his childhood.  John wasn’t entirely sure; he had been kicked out because Alexander insisted that the meal was going to be a surprise.  John wasn’t about to complain.  He couldn’t cook actual food for meals, only bake desserts (he was excellent at that), and all of the baking was already done.

Since he had nothing else to do, John was stress cleaning.  He was pretty sure that he had wiped down the coffee table at least three times, but he had nothing else to do.  He had his guesses as to why he stressed cleaned—it was most likely something to do with his father’s demands for perfection—but, regardless, it was something that calmed him.  There were worse things, he figured.  Cleaning like mad wasn’t going to hurt anything.

Sooner than he was prepared for, the bell rang and John buzzed everyone into the building, then opened the door for them.  They had all arrived together and had brought food—Lafayette had some French thing, Eliza had made her special muffins, Peggy had chips and some kind of dip, and Angelica and Mulligan, being over twenty-one, had brought alcohol.

“Alexander!” Eliza said happily, and John turned to see her enveloping Alexander in a tight hug.

Alexander hugged back, and then was passed around the group for more hugs, making John laugh—especially when he caught a glance of his boyfriend’s exasperated face. 

“Help!” Alexander said jokingly as he passed John, making grabby hands for his boyfriend.

John tilted his head, considering.  “Nah, I’m gonna let you suffer with them.  You can get your hugs later.  After everyone leaves.”

Lafayette wriggled their eyebrows.  “Ooh, that sounds like all sorts of fun.”

John swatted at them.  “Laf!”

Alexander just winked at John over Peggy’s shoulder. 

Once he finally got free of all of them, he headed back to the kitchen.  “Dinner.  Table.”

“Come on, let’s go sit down,” John said.  He was getting used to interpreting the missing words in Alexander’s speech, although he never spoke for his boyfriend unless Alexander asked. 

Alexander brought the food out, and, although John wasn’t actually sure what it was, it smelled fantastic.  Paired with the wine from Angelica and the beer from Mulligan, as well as the food everyone else had brought, it was a good meal.  John was just happy that everything was going as well as it was.

After dinner, the group headed out to the living room to play Cards Against Humanity.  The game got intense, with a time limit set rather than a certain number of cards to win, but Alexander ended up winning, just beating Peggy. 

Once they put the game away, people started heading out—everyone except Alexander had classes the next day.

As soon as everyone was gone, Alexander pinned John to the front door and kissed him hard.  John reciprocated, definitely into this turn of events.

After a few moments, Alexander pulled away, eyes dark and gleaming with excitement, and grabbed John’s hand, pulling him into the bedroom.

* * *

John pulled Alexander close, mouthing lazily at the curve of his shoulder, tasting the sweat there.  It had been a good night and they were both sated and exhausted.  Alexander was nestled close to John, wearing only one of John’s old t-shirts, one with the South Carolina flag on it, and he was swimming in it.  It was adorable.

“You’re too cute,” John murmured, and Alexander made a sleepy noise in return.

“Get some rest, sweetheart,” John said, then followed his own advice, closing his eyes and surrendering to sleep.

* * *

John was on his way back from class when his phone rang.  John grabbed it out of the center console of his car, and froze when he saw the name on the screen, long enough that he nearly missed his turn.

“Hello.”

“Hello, John.”  His father’s voice was silky smooth, the voice he used when wooing voters and donors.  John hated it.  It was the voice that he used when he wanted something.

“What is it?”

“I can’t just call to talk to my son?”

John pulled into his parking spot, turned off the car, and started to head inside.  “It would be extremely out of character.  You only ever call me when there’s news you think I should know or you want something.  I’d say the latter.”

Alexander looked up when John entered the apartment, but noticed that John was on the phone and went back to his book.

“Fair enough,” Henry Laurens said, the barest hint of a chuckle in his voice.  “I’m going to be in your area for work next week, and was thinking of taking you and—Alexander, is it?  You and Alexander to dinner.”

John hesitated for a moment, but knew full well that he couldn’t turn his father down.  This was most likely some sort of publicity stunt to bring in more liberal voters—“look how tolerant I am of my gay son and his boyfriend!”—but John needed to keep a good relationship with his father, if only for his siblings.

“We’ll be there.”

* * *

John had underestimated how out of place Alexander would look in a restaurant like the one Henry was taking them to.  He was dressed appropriately, in dress pants and one of his new sweaters (one of the ones that was actually the right size), but his mannerisms gave away that he didn’t belong.  He looked fidgety, and John was reminded once again how vastly different this was from Alexander’s upbringing.

“There he is,” John said, standing as he caught sight of his father and pulling Alexander to his feet as well.

“John,” Henry said, shaking his son’s hand.  “And you are Alexander, I imagine.”  He shook hands with Alexander as well, and John almost burst out laughing imagining the look on his father’s face if he were to find out about Alexander’s past.

They were seated promptly—a perk of being a United States senator, John was sure—and Henry fixed Alexander with a piercing look.  “What are you studying, Alexander?”

Alexander looked at John, giving him permission to answer in his boyfriend’s stead. 

“Alexander isn’t actually—”

“I asked Alexander, not you,” Henry interrupted smoothly.

“Aphasia.  John,” Alexander snapped back.

“Alexander has Broca’s Aphasia,” John explained quickly.  “It makes speaking and writing extremely difficult.  It’s a recent development, but, because of this, he’s taking a break from college to concentrate on speech therapy and getting better.  Before that, though, he was what, double major in poli-sci and pre-law, with an English minor, right?”

Alexander nodded, and Henry looked almost impressed for a moment.  John clenched his hands into fists under the table.  His father had never looked at him like that, not that he could remember.  He comforted himself with the reminder that, if Alexander had had full control of his speech, Henry would definitely not be looking at him like that.  They would more likely be engaged in a shouting match across the table or something like that.

“Part of the reason that I wanted to see you, John, was to tell you that we would very much like if you would come home this summer.” 

Very much like—John’s mind immediately translated that to “come home, or else.”

“Your siblings would like to see you, and there're some people that I think you should meet.  Pay rent on your apartment, make sure that Alexander has money for anything he needs—I can get him a card linked to your account, if you would like—and come home.”

Alexander took John’s hand and squeezed it lightly.  “Go.”

“Alexander.  Are you sure?”

There was something strange in Alexander’s eyes, something John couldn’t read, but he smiled and nodded anyway.  “Yes.  Go.”

John looked back to his father, took a deep breath, and raised his chin.  “As long as you have that card for Alexander before I leave, so I can make sure that he’s taken care of, I’ll be home for the summer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote several hundred words of this while hiding from my family on Easter. I love Easter, don’t so much love my family talking politics and religion vs. science. Especially since I’m on the opposite side as pretty much all of them. And then I wrote more really fucking pissed. Like, throw my phone across the room pissed. I asked for a friend to distract me because of the aforementioned family thing, and she turned it into “well, I have it worse.” And then I wrote some of this in tears because of related reasons. Sorry, don’t mean to bitch at you all. I love you. I just needed to get this out. And let you know that if any of it is weird, it's because I was in more emotional distress than usual.
> 
> The show that they’re listening to is A Gentleman’s Guide to Love and Murder, because I saw that on Broadway with the chorus last year and it was great.
> 
> The South Carolina flag thing—I spent a week in South Carolina last summer, and oh my god, there were state flags everywhere. Like, we were walking through Charleston (where John Laurens was born eyyy) and they were hung on at least one in three houses. In contrast, I’m from Pennsylvania, and you hardly ever see state flags. 
> 
> The reason that the food they’re eating at the party is so vague is because honestly I’m too lazy to do research.
> 
> Awkward ace really can’t write sex. Sorry, everyone. It happened, but I can’t write it. It was enough of a struggle to write what I did implying sex and shit, and that’s pretty much nothing.
> 
> Also. According to the Valley Forge website, John Laurens was not actually the oldest kid in his family. He was the fourth of twelve. He was, however, the first to live to adulthood (although not much further). Because child mortality is much lower in modern times, I changed this to that he was the oldest.
> 
> I am bumping up the rating on this for things that happen next chapter.
> 
> Finally, as always, I am smallinsaneone on Tumblr.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John goes to South Carolina.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for mentions of suicide, as well as Alex's sad life story.

All too soon, the semester was drawing to a close.  Alexander helped John study for his finals, sort of—study sessions in their apartment often turned into make-out sessions, so John tended to study on campus.  He couldn’t fail his finals just because his boyfriend was irresistible.

After finals came Angelica’s graduation, an emotional event, and her graduation party at the Schuyler estate, less emotional and with much more alcohol.

True to his word, Henry Laurens added Alexander to John’s bank account and sent him a card so that he could access the money.  When it arrived, Alexander wouldn’t even touch it, instead laying the card on the table and staring at it.

“You okay, sweetheart?” John asked, coming up behind Alexander and wrapping his arms around his waist.  Is there a problem?

“Never,” Alexander began, then shook his head, frustrated.  He grabbed his phone, pulling up a song.  John waited patiently while Alexander found the line he wanted.  _I’ve never seen this much money in my life._

That made perfect sense.  John hadn’t actually thought about that, but he should have.  He kept forgetting that Alexander hadn’t come from money, that Alexander had a vastly different background than he did himself.

“I know,” John murmured, kissing the top of Alexander’s head.  “But now you never have to worry about money again, I promise.  I’m going to spoil the hell out of you, make up for your past.”

“No,” Alexander started, but John put a hand over his mouth.

“Shh.  I don’t know everything about your past, but I do know that you’re never going to have to live like that again.  Let me take care of you.”

Alexander untangled himself from John’s hold and pulled him into the living room.  “Sit.”

John did so, slightly nervous, and Alexander sat opposite him.

“Beginning…know.”

They sat there for quite a while as Alexander told his life story.  It made John want to bundle Alexander into his arms and never let go.

There was much that John already knew.  Born out of wedlock, shunned by the people who surrounded him, all of that.  But he also learned a lot about Alexander in the halting words and fits and starts of Alexander’s story.  His father had walked out on him and his mother when he had been ten (as slimy and manipulative as Henry Laurens was, at least he had actually been there, John thought).  Two years later, Alexander and his mother had gotten terribly sick, and, as both had been expected to die, had been kept together, both in the bed they shared for lack of money and space.  Alexander had recovered, but he had also watched his mother die.  Then his cousin, the only person willing to be associated with Alexander, had taken him in, but, not much later, had killed himself—Alexander had been the one to find him, brains scattered across the room.  Then, through pure luck and sheer force of will, Alexander had managed to find a job at the age of fourteen.  He had become completely self-reliant, working full-time and teaching himself through any book he could get his hands on.  And then, at age seventeen, had come the fateful hurricane that had eventually brought Alexander to the United States.

Alexander bit his lip when he was finished, staring at his lap, and John couldn’t hold himself back any longer.  He crossed over to hold Alexander, feeling his boyfriend shake in his arms.

John stroked Alexander’s hair as he held him, tears in his eyes.  Alexander had been through far too much hell for someone of his age, and he was going through so much more, what with losing everything that made him who he was, everything that he had built his life and identity on.  And, worse, there was pretty much nothing to be done about it.  The only hope of getting any form of the old Alexander back was continuing therapy, and even that had no guarantees and wouldn’t bring back all of Alexander’s language facilities.

“I wish I could stay here over the summer,” John murmured, and he felt Alexander nod.  “But, for all my father worded it like a suggestion, he ordered me home for the summer.”

“Sense,” Alexander replied.  “Be fine.”  His voice was muffled, seeing as his face was still buried in John’s chest.

John started to reply but Alexander covered his mouth with one hand, moments before John felt Alexander mouthing at his chest through his thin t-shirt.

“Alexander…” he said slowly, and Alexander raised his head to look up at John with red-rimmed eyes.  “You shouldn’t…”

Alexander glared at John.  “Happy,” he snapped.  “Need.”

John understood Alexander’s point and decided to let him go.  He played idly with his boyfriend’s hair while Alexander pressed open-mouthed kisses to any area of John that he could reach.

Things escalated from there, serving as a reminder that, even though Alexander lost his words, he was still very good with his mouth.

* * *

Far too soon, John was fitting his luggage into his car in preparation to head back to South Carolina and deal with his family for an entire summer.  Alexander was sitting on the hood of the car, looking falsely nonchalant.

John was worried about leaving Alexander.  There was no one to keep an eye on him, which was not helping John’s nerves.  The Schuyler sisters were on some fancy vacation touring Europe as a present for Angelica’s graduation, Mulligan had gotten a summer internship at a tailor shop in D.C., and Lafayette had gone back to France to be with their family.  Alexander would be completely alone.

Logically, John knew that Alexander had been far more alone before.  Now, however, unlike in his past, Alexander had both lost what made him who he was and gained friends, friends who were easily reachable by text or phone call.

“If you ever need anything, you tell one of us, okay?” John asked sternly, and Alexander nodded.  “I mean that.  And use the card for anything you need—or want.  I don’t want to come back and find that you’ve been going without anything just because you didn’t want to spend any money.  Do you understand me?” 

Alexander rolled his eyes but nodded again.

“Good.  I’ll call you every night, and I’ll text you a lot.  I love you.”

“Love you.”

John stole a quick kiss from Alexander, which turned into a less quick kiss.  He had to break it off sooner than he wanted, however.

“I’ve got to get going if I want to get there while it’s still light.  I’ll call you as soon as I arrive, I promise.”

Alexander gave a thumbs up, then stood in the parking lot and waved as John drove off.

He felt terrible about leaving Alexander, but knew that he had no choice in the matter.  He couldn’t go against his father more than he already had.  John had come out to his family after Alexander’s accident, needing to have a reason that he was spending so much money for things like Alexander’s therapy—not that it was a drain on the family, not at all, but he knew that questions would be asked.  They had taken it surprisingly well, although John knew full well that his father didn’t want to do anything that would hurt his standings in the polls or anything like that.  Henry Laurens had his eyes on an eventual run for the presidency and it getting out that he had disowned his gay son wouldn’t look good to the more liberal voters he would need to win over to gain the White House.

If John was honest with himself, he wasn’t entirely upset about going home.  He hated being around his father, as well as being around the homophobia and racism he saw in his family and their neighbors and friends.  But he was excited to see his siblings, and he really did love Charleston, with all its history.

It was later than he would have liked when he finally pulled into the driveway of his family’s home.  No sooner was he out of the car then he was accosted by his three very excited siblings.

“Jacky!” Harry called, jumping at his brother.

“Hey, kiddo,” John said, laughing.  He picked Harry up, grinning at Martha and Mary around the excited child in his arms.

“Good, you made it.  Now leave,” Martha said drily.

“Aw, you love me,” John replied, and Martha shrugged.

“If you say so.”

Henry joined the group.  “Can you all help Jack carry in his bags?  I would imagine that he’s tired after driving all day.  You could have flown down, you know.”

John shrugged.  “This wasn’t bad.  And I want to have my car while I’m down here.  There’s a whole bunch of places that I would like to visit while I’m home.  I promised my friends presents.  Lafayette especially was very insistent.  And I have to call Alexander quickly, so excuse me, please.”

Stepping to the far side of the car, away from where the other three Laurens children were pulling his few bags out—John noted with relief that Martha had made sure to be the one to grab his laptop bag; the other two were a little overenthusiastic and John didn’t trust them not to break his computer—he called Alexander.

“Hello?”

“Hey, I’m here.  It was a good trip, if boring as anything.  How are things—”

“Tell him that we’re going to Skype him tomorrow,” Martha instructed from the other side of the car.  “I want to meet your boyfriend.  I’ve heard about him and I’ve seen pictures, but that’s not the same.”

“Okay, so apparently at least Martha and I are Skyping you tomorrow, although I imagine that Mary and Harry are going to want to join in.  Are you up for that?”

“Sure.”

“Great.  I’ll talk to you tomorrow.  Love you.”

“Love you too.”

John hung up, grinning.  He thought that that was the most words that Alexander had put together in a coherent sentence since the accident.  It was a step in the right direction.

* * *

The next day the four siblings gathered around John’s computer to Skype Alexander.

He picked up quickly, although he didn’t look entirely awake.  His hair was in a messy bun, and he was wearing John’s South Carolina shirt, something that Martha immediately started teasing her brother about.

While their older siblings were playfully bickering, Mary and Harry claimed the laptop to wave shyly at Alexander, who waved back, smiling. 

“Names?”

“I’m Mary.  I’m ten.  This is Harry, and he’s six.”

“Alexander.  Nineteen.”

“And you’re Jacky’s bestest friend?” Harry asked.  He was too young to understand that two boys could date even if John had been allowed to explain it to him, which he wasn’t, per his father’s orders.

Alexander started laughing, and John couldn’t help but doing the same (“I win!” Martha shouted as John found himself laughing too hard to bicker anymore).

“Sure.  Bestest.  Jacky?”

“Family nickname,” John said.  “You ever call me that, well.  You lose privileges.  Things I can’t say in front of these two, but I think you know what I mean.”

Alexander grinned and winked, and Martha freaked out.

“Jack, ew, no, didn’t need to know that.”

“Sorry,” John said, voice dripping insincerity.

“John?” Alexander asked, and John looked at him. 

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Just you.”

John glanced at the other three.  “Can you give Alexander and I some alone time now, please?”

The younger two nodded and hurried from the room.  Martha followed them more slowly, glaring at John.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing.”

“But you wanted me to get rid of my siblings?”

Alexander’s face fell from the smile he had worn for the others.  “Miss you.  Home.”

“I know, sweetheart.  I miss you, too.  And I so wish that I could be there with you, or even have you here.  But my dad…” John trailed off and looked down, playing with a loose thread on his hoodie.  “I’ll be back before you know it.  And I’m going to get you a bunch of cool stuff down here.  There’s so much history; you would love it.  There’s stuff from the Revolutionary War, from the Civil War, from all these different periods of history.  There’s the slave market, which Laf would _love_ —it’s all these stands selling stuff.  It used to be where the slaves would go shopping; that’s why they call it the slave market.  Then there’s Fort Sumter, the slave museum, plantations, and so much more.”

Alexander smiled, but it looked forced.  “Someday.”

“Someday,” John promised.

* * *

The next few weeks passed relatively uneventfully (except for a fight that John got in on a street in Charleston over a homophobic comment he happened to overhear).  John went shopping for things for his friends, took his siblings out, visited his very few friends from high school, visited his favorite places, and called Alexander every night.

He was out with Martha—not his sister, but an old girlfriend that he had dated to try and prove that he wasn’t gay (she happened to be gay as well, so it all worked out) when his phone rang with a number that he didn’t recognize, although the area code was that of the area in which he went to school and lived with Alexander.

“Hello?”

“Hello, is this John Laurens?”

“Yes.  How can I help you?”

Martha looked up, concerned, and John gestured for her to wait a moment.

“This is Alissa with General Hospital.  We have you listed as the contact information for Alexander Hamilton.  Is this correct?”

“It is.  Is he alright?”

“There’s been an…incident.  Can you get to the hospital?”

“I’m in South Carolina at the moment, but I’ll be there as soon as I can.  Thank you for calling me, and have a nice day.”

He hung up, and covered his face with his hands, trying not to panic.

“Is everything okay?” Martha asked in concern.

“Alexander is in the hospital.  I have to go back.”

* * *

It was some kind of testament to his father’s influence, how easily John was able to get a flight.  Once he landed, he hurried to the hospital.  He hadn’t brought any luggage other than his carry-on, since getting to the hospital was more important.  His heart was in his throat; they hadn’t told him what had happened, and he automatically assumed the worst—Alexander had been in an accident, their apartment had been broken into, anything of that nature.  Something had gone wrong and he hadn’t been there to defend Alexander.

“I’m here to see Alexander Hamilton,” John told the nurse at the front desk, breathing heavily.

“Name?” she asked.

“John Laurens.”

She flipped through a few papers.  “You’re on the list.  In fact, you are the list.  I’m going to need you to leave all bags here and empty your pockets.  You’re not likely to cause a problem, but we can’t risk it.  And you may only give him things sanctioned by the doctor or nurse on call.”

That did absolutely nothing to calm John’s nerves.  “What the hell is this?  This isn’t standard procedure, is it?”

The nurse shook her head.  “When we very nearly have a suicide attempt bleed out on our emergency room floor, we have to take procedures to make sure that the patient does not try to kill themselves again, or even have the means to try.”

 _Suicide_. 

“God almighty, Alexander,” John whispered through his tears.

Everything was only made worse when John entered Alexander’s hospital room.  He looked so much worse than he had when he had had his accident, looked so fragile lying in the hospital bed.  He had no color in him and was hooked up to several different machines, heavy bandages covering his wrists.  He looked up when John entered, then immediately looked away again.

“What the hell, Alexander?” John asked, suddenly angry.  “This isn’t how to deal with things.”

“Worthless,” Alexander said harshly.

“You’re not fucking worthless.  No one is.  You’re going to do great things, and you can’t do them if you’re six feet in the goddamn ground.”

Alexander’s stony expression melted into tears, and John felt himself mirroring that.

“I love you so much, Alexander.  Everything is going to be fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, hi. I know that I said that I was probably going on hiatus in April, but here I am. I’m basically dead, but here I am. I’ve got Camp NaNo, of course, and I semi-accidentally sold my soul to a campaign office until the Pennsylvania primaries on the 26th (I was supposed to do a three-hour canvassing shift, showed up forty minutes late because of class and ended up staying for ten hours). Working in the campaign office is exhausting. I’ve done a ten-hour shift, I’ve done a twelve-hour shift, and I’ve offered to come in every day until the primaries (if you want more stories from that, check out the tag “Kris does campaign work” on my tumblr—smallinsaneone). 
> 
> I handwrote the first 1000 or so words of this while I wasn’t paying attention in calculus. Don’t be me.
> 
> Eyyyy In the Heights reference. The song that Alex uses for the line “I’ve never seen this much money in my life” is, hypothetically, Blackout.
> 
> Someone on Tumblr described this as having the “ultimate heartbreaking plot twist” and I’m just sitting here like “yes, I succeeded!!” 
> 
> I am not describing all Southerners as homophobic and racist. I’m just working off the stereotype. Also, I spent a week in Charleston, South Carolina last summer, and it’s beautiful. 
> 
> John’s siblings are Martha, Mary, and Harry (Henry Jr.). Martha is 16, Mary 10, and Harry 6. I didn’t look up the actual age gaps between him and them; I just rolled with something. He did have another brother, James, but he died young (and while under John’s care, fun fact), so he’s not in here. Also, according to the site I looked at, his family really did call him Jack or Jacky (how the hell Jack is a nickname for John I’m not sure, but whatever), and I wanted to play with that. The reason that Henry calls John Jack here and didn’t last chapter is because of Alex’s presence (aka I didn’t think of it until this chapter). I mentioned earlier that John and Martha’s relationship is based off mine with my 16-year-old brother, and John’s relationship with Harry is based off the one I have with my 13-year-old brother. I know there’s a bit of an age difference there, but it works.
> 
> Who the fuck fought in the Revolutionary War and founded America? I don’t know; not these guys. 
> 
> Everywhere in Charleston that John mentions is somewhere I went when I was there.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has to tell everyone else what happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for mentions of self-harm and suicide.

John didn’t want to leave Alexander’s side ever again—he was afraid to.  Alexander had already tried to kill himself once; there was no guarantee that he wouldn’t try again, to John’s absolute terror.

Of course, always staying wasn’t an option, not as long as Alexander was in the hospital.  Visiting hours were in effect even for suicide patients, and there were always doctors and nurses in and out, some of whom wanted to speak to Alexander alone and were more than willing to kick John out to do so, no matter how much both boys protested. 

One doctor, however, wanted to talk to just John, taking him into the hall to be away from Alexander’s listening.

“You’re his boyfriend, yes?”

John nodded slowly.  This wasn’t South Carolina, so homophobia wasn’t as rampant, but it still existed.

“How often do you see him?”

“We live together.”

The doctor nodded.  “Given that you live together, did you know of his suicidal intents?”

John sighed.  “I’ve been in South Carolina since the semester ended.  My father wanted me home for the summer, but he doesn’t approve of my being gay and having a boyfriend, so Alexander stayed behind.  I thought that it was going to be safer for both of us, but clearly that wasn’t true.”

The doctor nodded, looking closely at John.  “It wasn’t your fault.  I know that you’re probably blaming yourself—you left him alone—but it isn’t your fault.”

The doctor had hit the nail on the head.  Since he had first heard the nurse at the desk say suicide, John had been blaming himself. 

“But if I hadn’t left Alexander alone, this wouldn’t have happened,” John muttered.

“Suicide isn’t often an isolated event,” the doctor pointed out.  “It’s a symptom of bigger problems.  How long has he been self-harming?”

That felt like a punch in the stomach.  “I…don’t know.  Not long.  He wasn’t doing it when I left for South Carolina.”

“Are you sure?”

John blushed.  “Yeah.  I’m sure.”  He wasn’t about to actively say this to the doctor, but he had seen Alexander naked often enough to be sure.

The doctor nodded.  “Thank you, Mr. Laurens.”

John reentered the hospital room and Alexander looked up at him curiously.

“She wanted to know if I had known that you were suicidal, as well as telling me that it wasn’t my fault for leaving you alone.”

Alexander nodded.  “Never you.”

“She also told me that you’ve been self-harming.  God, Alexander.”

Alexander looked away for a moment, but then pulled up one side of his hospital gown to reveal a few angry red marks on his hip, angry red marks laid over existing scars.

John had thought he could handle it, but the stress was too much.  He burst into tears, which made Alexander start crying as well.

Then, to make matters worse, John’s phone rang.

_Henry Laurens._

Damn.

“I have to take this,” John whispered, then answered the phone.

“Yes?”

“When are you returning home for the rest of the summer?  Soon, I imagine, given that you didn’t even need to go up at all.”

John shook his head, then remembered that his father couldn’t see him.  “I’m not.  I mean, I’ll be down to get my bags and my car, but I can’t stay.  I need to be here.”

“Your family is more important than…than Alexander, Jack.”

He still couldn’t actually say _boyfriend_ , John noted.  “No, it’s not.  Alexander needs me more than y’all do.”  Damn, the accent was back.  He always picked it back up when he was home or talking to people from home, but hid it around his Northern—or French, or Caribbean—friends.  It came out when he was upset, though, and that was certainly the case now, to the point where he had to leave the room.  John could see that his raised voice was upsetting Alexander, and that was the last thing that he wanted to do.  He headed down the hall, far enough away that there was no way that Alexander would be able to hear him from inside the room.

“I don’t believe that.  What the hell could have happened that you think you can just leave like that, and then stay?” Henry demanded.

“I have commitments beyond just you,” John snapped back, ignoring the dirty looks the people around him were giving him.  “I’m nearly twenty.  My life doesn’t revolve around you and your whims.”

“Jack,” his father warned.

“You can’t do anything,” John snapped back.  “I know— _you_ know—that you can’t force me to come back, and you can’t kick me out because you need to keep your image.”

“That may be true, but campaign season is upon us, Jack, and you know how important it is for me to have my family by my side for as much time as possible during that time.  The voters like to see my family, and since it isn’t during the school year, they’re going to wonder after you.”

“ _Alexander tried to commit suicide!_ ” John shouted.

There was dead silence from the other end.

“You can’t make me stay there.  I’m needed here more.”

“Fine.”

John hung up and almost threw his phone across the room.  His father made him so goddamn furious, which terrified him.  He didn’t want to be anything at all like his father, not ever, but he could see the similarities when he lost his temper.

The only reason that John didn’t throw his phone was that he had more calls he needed to make.  Figuring that Lafayette was the most likely to answer their phone, despite the fact that it was nearly midnight in France, John called them first.

“Bonjour, John!” Lafayette said excitedly.  “How is South Carolina?”

“I’m not in South Carolina right now,” John replied, voice dead.

Lafayette paused.  “What is wrong, mon ami?”

John took a deep breath.  “You have to promise not to tell anyone.  I’m talking to Herc and the Schuyler sisters to tell them, not you.”

“…very well.”

“Alexander’s in the hospital.  He…he tried to kill himself.”  It was a lot harder to say when he wasn’t shouting it in a rage.

Lafayette didn’t say anything, but John could hear the muffled sounds of crying on the other end of the line, which made John cry again as well.

“I left him, Laf.  I knew that my father wouldn’t let me bring him to South Carolina, but I could have tried.  I could have refused to go down there for the summer.  I should have known better.  God almighty, Laf—I don’t even know what to do, what to say, anything.  The nurse told me that he almost bled out on the emergency room floor, which means that he took himself to the hospital.  But what if he hadn’t?  Would I have come home from South Carolina to find my boyfriend dead in our apartment?”

Lafayette didn’t answer, which made John cry harder.  He slid down the wall to sit on the floor—standing was too much work.

“I have to go,” he managed, then hung up and buried his face in his knees, sobbing.  He couldn’t do this.  He couldn’t.  Voicing the unimaginable what-if to Lafayette had only made it far more real.  He couldn’t think about it.  John had been in South Carolina avoiding his father and having fun with his siblings and Alexander had been at home, locked in his own head and self-destructing.

Hercules and the Schuyler sisters had to know as soon as possible.  John had to pull himself together and let them know.  The four of them were busier than Lafayette, however, so John sent them a quick text.

**To: Hercules, Angelica, Eliza, Peggy**

_Call me as soon as you get a chance._

His phone rang almost immediately.  The Schuylers (or Peggy, at least) must have had some downtime on their European adventures.  John didn’t know which country they were in, but they weren’t asleep, at least.

“Hey, Peggy,” John said, voice shaking.

“All three of us are here,” she replied.  “Are you okay?  You sound like you’ve been crying.  And it sounds busy around you—you’ve said that you hate crying in front of people, so something must be really wrong.”

That was Peggy, always so observant.

“I’m at the hospital,” John replied.

“Are you okay?” Eliza asked immediately.

John took a deep breath.  “I’m fine.   Well, I’m fine physically.  I’m home from South Carolina, and I’m actually here because of Alexander.  Alexander, who almost bled out on the emergency room floor after he tried to kill himself.”

Someone shrieked—John was pretty sure that it was Eliza.

“How is he?  Can we talk to him?” Angelica asked. 

“He’s…I can’t say fine, given that he _tried to kill himself_ , but he’s alive and awake.  As for talking to him, I’ll see if he’s up to it.  I mean, he hates talking on the phone anyway, given the whole aphasia thing, but I’ll ask him.”

John headed back to Alexander’s room.

“Hey, sweetheart, the Schuyler sisters are on the phone.  They want to talk to you.  Are you up for it?”

Alexander looked panicked for a moment, then nodded.  “Have to.”

“You don’t have to,” John said.

“Worry.  Have to.”

John nodded, then put his phone on speaker. 

“Hi,” Alexander said, even quieter than he had been since losing his voice.

“Alexander Hamilton!”  Angelica sounded furious, and John couldn’t blame her.  She, of course, could get away with yelling at Alexander, something that John himself couldn’t do.  “You don’t get to do things like that.”

If it wasn’t for the gravity of the situation, John would have found the look on Alexander’s face almost comical.  He had a movie-perfect look of terror on his face, not that John could blame him.

Angelica yelled at Alexander for another few minutes, not allowing Alexander to get a word in edgewise.  Finally, she finished—“What the hell do you have to say for yourself?”

“Sorry,” Alexander muttered.

“Is that it?” she demanded.

“Angelica,” John cut in.  “First of all, I imagine he already feels awful.”  Alexander nodded, eyes downcast.  “Secondly, you know perfectly well that he can’t say much more than that.  Don’t give him that kind of hell.”

“I’m sorry, Alexander,” Eliza said.  “For both that you felt that low and my sister’s words.”

“I second that,” Peggy chimed in.

“Thanks.”  Alexander looked at John.  “No more.”

John nodded.  He knew that talking on the phone was exhausting for Alexander.  At least in person or over Skype he had some level of use of facial expressions and body language, but on the phone he had no such ability.

Barely a minute after John had apologized to the Schuyler sisters and hung up, a nurse came into the room.  “Visiting hours are over; I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Arguing was going to do no good, so John nodded.  “Give me one minute.”

The nurse agreed and left.

“Hey, I love you.  I’ll be back tomorrow, I promise.”

“Okay,” Alexander said, although he was pouting.

“If they would let me, I would stay,” John told him.  “But there’s no way that they would let me.  You’re not a child and you’re not dying, so I have to go.  I’ll try to be here as soon as visiting hours start.  Of course, my car is still in South Carolina—I have to go back to get it and my other things—but I will try my best.”  He kissed Alexander quickly, resisting his boyfriend’s attempts to deepen it.  “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

* * *

Hercules didn’t call until almost ten—until after the shop he worked at had closed, John assumed.  It wasn’t a problem; all John had been doing was sitting on the couch and staring at the television, which he wasn’t actually watching, for all it was turned on.

“What’s up?” Hercules asked as soon as John answered.  “Your family giving you hell?”

John looked up at his South Carolina flag, hung next to the Saint Kitts and Nevis flag that Alexander pretended not to be proud of.  “I’m home.”

Hercules sounded confused.  “Yeah, I know.  You went home for the summer.”

John hadn’t realized that he had been referring to his life with Alexander as home until Hercules had mentioned it.  It made sense, though—Alexander and their apartment and their friends and even school were far more home than South Carolina had ever been.

“I’m home from South Carolina.”

“Did something happen down there?  Do I need to punch someone for hurting my friend?”

“Nothing happened there—just the usual bullshit.  Here, though…”

Hercules repeated his question.  “Do I need to punch someone for hurting my friend?  Is Alexander okay?  What happened?”

“Alexander isn’t okay.  But there’s no one for you to punch.”

“Bullshit.  Alexander is hurt, which means someone hurt him.  I know him, and he probably picked a fight with someone.  Do we know who?”

John bit his lip.  “Yes.  Alexander.”

Hercules sounded utterly bewildered.  “What?”

“Alexander tried to kill himself, Hercules.  Only Alexander hurt Alexander.  The nurse said that he almost bled out on the emergency room floor—he almost succeeded.  And he’s been self-harming on top of that.”

“My god.”  Hercules didn’t sound anything like his usual cocky self.  It was the most subdued that John had ever heard him.  “He’s alive, at least.  I know it’s little help, but hold onto that.  We didn’t lose him.”

“He only started once I left,” John murmured.  “That makes it my fault.”

“No, it doesn’t.  Stop feeling sorry for yourself—you can’t help Alexander in that state.  He’s always had his coping methods; I’m pretty sure that one was sleeping with you.  At any rate, he was always more clingy and handsy when he was upset.”

John had to admit that Hercules was right; Alexander had always tried to get John to fuck him or something related when something was wrong.  “But that still makes it my fault.  I left him.”

“This suicide attempt and the self-harm, they were caused by problems within Alexander’s head and it is _no fault of yours_.  Stop blaming yourself.  It won’t help anything—in fact, I feel like it’s only going to make things worse.”  There was muffled shouting in the background.  “Listen, I have to go.  Everything’s going to be fine.  And remember, classes start in three weeks, so we’ll all be back soon.  We’re always here for you, though.  If you need anything, let me know and I’ll do my best.”

John nodded, sniffling.  “Thanks.”

“No prob.  I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye, Herc.”

Once he hung up, John went to get ready for bed but froze as soon as he entered the room.  He couldn’t do this.  He stared at the bed he shared with Alexander and found that he couldn’t make himself sleep there, not while Alexander was still in the hospital.  It just served as a reminder of how much he had nearly lost.

He hurried to get pajamas, needing to be out of the room as soon as he could be.  He got a pair of sweatpants out of a drawer and was just going to wear the first t-shirt he grabbed, but caught sight of his South Carolina shirt on the floor.  That shirt was Alexander’s favorite, which meant that it probably smelled like him.

John was right; the shirt did smell like Alexander.  He curled up on the couch under a thin blanket, surrounded by the scent of his boyfriend.  He couldn’t wait to hold Alexander again, to reassure him that he was loved and wanted and was still so wonderful and smart and god almighty he wasn’t sure how he was going to get through any of this.  There was no way that he could really do this.  It was his fault; he had been supposed to take care of Alexander and he had failed.

* * *

A few days later, Alexander came home.  John had spent almost every day in the hospital by his side—he had spent the last day before Alexander’s discharge going through the house for anything sharp and either getting rid of it or locking it up where Alexander wouldn’t be able to get it—but it was nothing compared to having Alexander home.

As soon as they got home, John dragged Alexander to the bedroom, to which Alexander responded with a look of amusement.

“I’m not letting you go.  I’m not leaving you again,” John murmured as he wrapped all his limbs around Alexander.  “Not ever.  I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, this turned into almost 3,000 words of filler. Oops. I meant to put it up yesterday, but I was on an awful adrenaline crash after the Bernie Sanders rally, so I went to bed early instead.
> 
> Also: I have Big News. The first chapter of The Bullets From My Mouth, the sequel from Alex's POV, is now up. So go check that out, I guess.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing good can stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: mentions of suicide and child abuse.
> 
> I cried writing this. I never cry while writing. I am so sorry.

Lafayette, being an international student, was the first one back of their group.  They actually rescheduled their flight and move in to nearly a week earlier than they had originally planned in order to let John head back to South Carolina to get his car and things.

When they first arrived back in the United States, John and Alexander went to meet them up at the airport.  Lafayette’s flight landed about two hours before John’s left, so the three of them were just meeting up between flights. 

Alexander was very carefully covering his still-bandaged wrists with an oversized hoodie that had once belonged to John.  John held his hand, pressing periodic kisses to the parts of the hoodie sleeves over said bandages, a small reminder of how much Alexander had to live for.

When Lafayette’s flight landed, the two of them were waiting at the baggage claim, the closest they could get, thanks to security.  Alexander was clinging tightly to John’s hand, tight enough to hurt (and probably pull his stitches, John realized.  If Alexander was in pain, he didn’t say anything).

There was an announcement that the flight from France had landed, and Alexander clung tighter to John.  John could feel Alexander’s pulse quicken; nerves, he was sure, about facing Lafayette after his suicide attempt.

It wasn’t that long before John spotted Lafayette through the crowd.  “They’re here,” he murmured to Alexander, who nodded, biting his lip.

As soon as Lafayette spotted the pair, they dashed over, scooping Alexander up into a tight hug.  Alexander shrieked as his hand was torn out of John’s, and Lafayette gasped.  “Pardon, Alexander.  Are you okay?”

“John,” Alexander said, eyes huge, reaching out for his boyfriend.  “John.”

John shook his head.  “Let Lafayette hold you for a minute.  I’m going to grab their bags, and I’m sure they need to hold you and make sure that you’re real and alive for a bit.  Let them be.”

John thought that a brief expression of hurt flashed across Alexander’s face, but it was gone so quickly that he couldn’t be certain.  Regardless, he turned away to stand by the luggage carousel and look for Lafayette’s bags.  He knew what they looked like; he had helped move them before, so he would be able to find them easily enough.  They stood out, much like Lafayette themself.

John dragged the bags back over to Alexander and Lafayette.  “You guys ready to go?”

Lafayette nodded, letting go of Alexander and taking his bags from John.

John held out his arms to Alexander, who ignored him.

“Alexander, sweetheart, I have to go if I want to get through security and make my flight.  Let me say goodbye?  I won’t be gone long—I’ll be back the day after tomorrow.  But let me say goodbye to you.”

“Bye,” Alexander muttered, still refusing to meet John’s eyes.

Lafayette wandered off a few feet, muttering something under their breath in French.  John chose to ignore it.

“I get that you’re pissed, and I understand why.  I left you with Lafayette when you specifically asked for me.  But our friends care about you, too, and I can’t monopolize your time, not after what happened while I was in South Carolina.”

Alexander still looked angry, but he nodded.  “Love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart,” John replied, then stole a quick kiss before heading off to the security line.

* * *

John’s flight was uneventful, although that was offset by the exact opposite of uneventful once he landed.  Of all possible people, his father was the one to pick him up, a reporter nearby covering the reunion of the senator from South Carolina and his gay son.  Of course, John hadn’t actually know this, so he wasn’t at all presentable for the press.  He had been running low on clothing, given that nearly all of his summer clothing was in South Carolina and he had not been, so he was wearing whatever the hell he could find that was clean—a tank top that had a hole running down the seam that he kept meaning to fix but never actually had and a pair of shorts that were a size too small.  His hair was a mess, curls tangled and probably knotted; he had just thrown it in a bun to avoid having to deal with it.

Henry Laurens did not look pleased.  “You couldn’t even dress decently to return home?” he hissed, smiling for the camera all the while.

“All my clothes were here, not home,” John replied, not even trying to put on a face for the camera.  “I came back to get them and my car, and then I’m out of your hair.”

Henry put a hand on the small of John’s back, steering him out of the airport.  “No, you’re staying for the rest of the summer, like we discussed.  It’s only two and a half more weeks, after all.  If Alexander can’t survive that long on his own, does he even deserve to?”

It took everything in John not to punch his father.  “Just because his mind is broken doesn’t mean that Alexander doesn’t deserve to live.  Depression is a real thing, being suicidal is a real thing, and it doesn’t make someone worthless or mean that they deserve death.  Alexander survived on his own for years—he’s been alone since he was twelve.  And it’s not like he had an easy life on either side of that—he was the scrappy bastard orphan from Nevis, an outcast who lost everything and literally wrote his way here.  He pulled himself out of poverty on the strength of his words, and now he’s lost them.  I don’t like seeing him like this, but I can’t fault him for it.  It makes perfect sense, as little as I like to say it.”

“Not only do you have to be…skewed, in your tendencies, but it has to be with someone from a situation like _that_?” Henry asked, clearly disgusted.

Joh stared at him.  “Isn’t that pretty much exactly what you Republicans want?  Someone who worked their ass off to better themselves?  Or does that not matter because he’s not American, or because he isn’t straight, or because he isn’t white?  Or is it because he’s my boyfriend?”

His father didn’t reply, and John tried not to laugh.  That had been the most fun that John had had around his father in as long as he could remember.

**To: Alexander**

_Just completely told my father off for denying his “Republican values” when it comes to you.  You did what they want—worked your way to success—but it’s not good enough.  Options as to why: not American, not white, not straight, dating me._

**From: Alexander**

_This is Lafayette; Alexander is laughing too hard to reply.  I’d take that as a good sign, I think._

**From: Alexander**

_Last._

**To: Alexander**

_You think it’s because you’re dating me?_

**From: Alexander**

_Yes._

“If you could manage to be polite and put your phone away, that would be appreciated,” Henry snapped, and John automatically flinched.  That tone of voice was never good—it meant being yelled at, if he was lucky, and carefully placed bruises, ones that would be covered by clothes, if he wasn’t.

John had always been the unlucky one. The little ones were doted on and kept well away from the beliefs of their troublemaking older siblings, but both John and Martha were too harsh and firm in said beliefs.  Martha was at least a girl—their father’s outdated and misogynistic values spoke strongly against hitting a girl, so she would just be yelled at, but there were no such values protecting John.

That wasn’t something he had ever told Alexander.  He wondered if he should.  Probably.  But, at the same time, Alexander had enough problems of his own; John couldn’t throw more on him.

When they got back to the house, John immediately headed up to his room to pack.  He knew that his father would take any excuse to try and get him to stay, including keeping him busy all the next day if he could.  If he packed immediately, he would probably be able to sneak out in the morning before anyone else woke up. 

John jumped when his door opened. 

“We’re going to dinner as a family, and I expect you to look presentable.”  Henry looked John up and down with narrowed eyes.  “You have an hour.”

* * *

Dinner was unbearable.  Martha kept shooting him significant glances—the two had long ago worked out an unspoken language—and the younger two were chattering away, clearly unaware both that John was leaving again in the morning and of the circumstances that had torn him away in the first place.  Henry, meanwhile, was talking about the elections and how the family would appear for the next few weeks until John had to return to school, which was frustrating.  It just reminded John that he really needed to get the hell out of South Carolina.

* * *

John’s alarm went off at 4:30 the following morning, and he slipped carefully out of his room carrying his suitcases.  His car was parked in front of the house, a purposeful move on his part to leave easier.  Luckily, he got out easily enough, not waking anyone up in the process.  It would be at least five hours until anyone got up, since it was a Saturday, so he could be into Virginia before anyone realized he was gone.

The drive really was a boring one.  John plugged his phone in to the speakers and loudly sang along to whatever came on in an attempt to pass the time.  It didn’t work as well as he would have wanted, but at least it distracted him from his racing mind.

It was a quarter to ten when his phone finally started ringing, showing his father’s name on the screen.  John sighed.  He knew that there was no way to avoid answering him, so he answered grudgingly.

“What the hell were you thinking, Jack?”  God, that voice made John want to curl up in a ball and sob—either that or run away.  That was the voice that had haunted John’s dreams as a child.

“I needed to get home to Alexander,” John said, trying to keep his voice steady.  “I told you that I was only coming back for my bags and my car before heading back.”

“We need you for this campaign,” Henry snapped back.  “I need to have my family at my side—it speaks to our voting base.  You had better be back for your breaks.”

“So I can be dragged all over the goddamn state like some kind of trophy?  I grew up doing that, and I’m not doing it now.  I have a life; I have things I’m actually needed for, and I have a boyfriend that _needs_ me.  I can’t give my life over to you the way you want.  I’m an actual human being.  I’m an adult.”

“Are you enough of an adult that I can cut your tuition payments and sever your connection to your bank account?”

John was trying damn hard not to cry.  “No.”

“That’s what I thought.  So you’ll be home for all your breaks to go on the campaign trail with your siblings and myself?”

“…sure.  Can I bring Alexander?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“The voters want to see my family.  Not my family and some Caribbean bastard.  He will hurt us more than he will help us.”

“Even if he stays behind the scenes?”  John took a calculated risk.  “You want us to look like the model family, including your angry oldest son.  What better way to keep me happy and doing what you want than to let me bring Alexander along for when we’re not in the public eye?”

“…I’ll think about it.”

* * *

Traffic was terrible, so it took John almost fourteen hours to get back home.  The apartment was dark when he entered, so John nearly screamed when Lafayette popped their head over the top of the couch. 

“Alexander is asleep,” they murmured.

John came around the couch, intending to sit beside Lafayette, but found that the entire couch was taken up by Alexander’s sprawled body, his head on Lafayette’s leg.

Lafayette carefully worked his way off the couch, trying not to disturb Alexander as he did.  They ended up not being successful, as Alexander groggily blinked his eyes open and watched Lafayette—it was clear that he didn’t see John.

“Hey there,” Lafayette teased.  “I have something for you.”

Alexander groaned, burying his face in the couch cushion.

“You okay there, sleeping beauty?” John teased softly, and Alexander sat bolt upright, then fell off the couch, uncoordinated from having been asleep.

“Okay!” he said immediately, sitting up with the most adorable look on his face and his hair sticking straight up.  John and Lafayette immediately burst out laughing and Alexander pouted, which only made them laugh more.

Alexander stuck his hands out for John, who came over to him and held him.  “Let’s get you to bed, sweetheart.”

“No.  Early.”  He looked barely awake.

“Alexander, you were literally asleep on the couch and you look like you’re about to fall asleep right here.  I’m putting you to bed.”

“I got him to take his sleeping meds for once,” Lafayette informed John as they left.  “That would be why he’s so tired.”

“Thank you.”

Alexander was trying and failing to get up, so John carried him (purposefully ignoring how light his boyfriend was; had Alexander eaten while John had been away over the summer?). 

After tucking Alexander in, John curled up next to him and tried not to think about his father.  He couldn’t.

* * *

John put off mentioning Henry Laurens and his threats until one night when a news program came on after a show he and Alexander had been watching.  It was, of course, talking about the elections, and mentioned the South Carolina Senate race and Henry Laurens, complete with a clip of him and his children from earlier in the summer.  Henry knew that the voters loved to see his family.

“He’s making me go back to South Carolina for breaks, because of the election.”

“Say no.”

John paused for a few moments to gather his thoughts.  “I can’t.  He’s threatening to basically disown me if I do, or cut off my money and tuition, at least, which would force me back to South Carolina.  I don’t care so much for my own sake—I would be fine; I survived living with him up until last August—but I can’t let him do that because of you.  That’s why he threatened it.  He hates our relationship, but he’s using you against me as a way to manipulate me.”

Alexander, who was leaning on John’s chest with his eyes closed, didn’t respond in any way, so John assumed he was asleep.  He had been crashing hard and fast at the end of the night because of an upped dose of medication, so it wasn’t unlikely for Alexander to have fallen asleep that quickly.  It was better that way anyway.

* * *

John had gone grocery shopping since there was next to no food in the apartment.  Alexander had barely shopped over the summer and they had eaten what little he had bought (or that Lafayette had brought back for them from France).  He opened the door and stepped into the apartment just to be greeted by the sound of retching coming from the bathroom attached to his and Alexander’s room.

He hurried in, only to be greeted by the sight of Alexander next to the toilet, violently ill.  Next to him lay his bottle of sleeping pills, empty.

 _Not again_.

“Alexander…?” John asked cautiously, and Alexander turned to face him, eyes red-rimmed.

“Aw, sweetheart,” John cooed, dropping to his knees beside Alexander.  He knew it was bad to be ignoring the fact that Alexander had tried again to kill himself, but he had too.  He couldn’t admit something was wrong.  He couldn’t admit to himself that he wasn’t enough to keep Alexander happy.

* * *

Hercules and the Schuyler sisters were happy to see Alexander—none of them knew about the second suicide attempt; John couldn’t make himself talk to them about it, and he knew that Alexander never would.

The group of them, all seven—Angelica was in town helping to move Eliza and Peggy in—went together to a party at an upperclassman’s house.  John didn’t actually know the host, but he was a friend of Hercules, so it didn’t matter.

The party was busy, filled with people that John didn’t actually know.  Early on Alexander claimed a spot on one of the couches and refused to move.  John couldn’t blame him—the old Alexander would have been out in the crowd, most likely arguing with all of them, but now Alexander couldn’t talk to them, so he refused to even try.  John was pretty sure that Alexander had only gone because the others had wanted to and Alexander didn’t want to be alone.

The group kept bringing Alexander food and drinks and keeping him company, but a party was a party, and they all drifted.

One girl kept talking to John.  She was talkative and fairly eloquent, although drunk (not that John wasn’t at least buzzed himself), and very pretty on top of that. 

John kept stealing glances over at Alexander, which she didn’t like at all.

“You’re so pretty,” she crooned, pushing him against the wall and worming one of her legs in between his.  “Are you available?”  Without waiting for John to answer, she pulled him in and kissed him hard.

John tried to pull away, but she still had him pinned against the wall. 

Once she finally let him go, he glared at her.  “First of all, I’m fucking gay.  Secondly, my boyfriend is over there.”  He gestured at the couch that Alexander had claimed and froze.  Alexander was gone.

“I have to go.”

John shot a quick text to his friends so that they didn’t worry, then headed out to look for Alexander.  He checked the area all around the house, even asking the drunk strangers if they had seen Alexander.  No one had.

Panicking, John ran home (he couldn’t drive there; they only had one car and Eliza, as the designated driver, had the keys, which was unfortunate, since he was losing precious time). 

The apartment was empty.

On his second run through, John saw the paper.  It was a printout of the lyrics to Nicotine, one of John’s favorite songs.  A single line was highlighted.

_It’s better to leave than to be replaced._

“No, no, sweetheart, I didn’t…” John murmured, willing himself not to cry.  Alexander was gone, thinking that John was cheating on him or something, and he couldn’t handle it.

He also couldn’t give up.  Stopping his search for Alexander wasn’t an option.

* * *

John was searching the small wooded area behind the apartment complex when he heard screams.  Rational thought said to run away from the screams, but, instead, John headed towards them.

A couple burst through the bushes next to John, panting.  They screamed again when they saw him, holding their hands up.  “Don’t hurt us!”

“I’m not going to.  What’s wrong?”

“There’s so much blood!” the man said, eyes huge.

John immediately headed in the direction indicated, the beam from the flashlight on his phone illuminating the way.  Tentatively, the couple followed him, curiosity most likely overwhelming their fear now that there was another person present.

Good god, there really was so much blood.  The man hadn’t been mistaken.  It was a sickening amount.  John was so distracted by the amount of blood that he didn’t even see the dark figure at first, hidden as it was by the shadows of the trees at the edge of the clearing.  As soon as he saw it, however, he knew.

He dashed over, skidding in the blood to collapse next to the body.  Alexander.  Holy shit.

John searched frantically for a pulse, nearly collapsing in relief when he finally found one. 

“He’s still alive, but with this amount of blood loss he can’t last long.  Call 911.  Now!” 

While the couple went in search of cell service, John put as much pressure as he could on the wound.  He had to keep Alexander alive until he could pass the task over to the more experienced people who would come with the ambulance.  He couldn’t let Alexander die literally in his hands.

“I love you, sweetheart.  I don’t know if you can hear me, but I love you.  You’re strong—you’ve survived so much.  You can survive this for me; I know that you can.  You can survive anything.  Just…don’t die on me, Alexander.  You’re strong.  I’m not.  I need you, sweetheart.”

There was a burst of light and the EMTs were taking over from John in stabilizing Alexander.

One of them came over to John.  “Do you know this man?  And do you know what happened to him?”

“His name is Alexander Hamilton.  I’m his boyfriend and emergency contact.  This…this is his third suicide attempt.”

“Have you consider institutionalizing him for a bit once he heals?”

“I don’t think I have much of a choice, at this point,” John admitted.  “I can’t take care of him.  The only thing with that, though, is that he has Broca’s Aphasia, so speaking and writing is difficult.  Because of that, he doesn’t like new people.  He’s uncomfortable around them because he can’t talk well.”

“I understand, and we can find people who can take care of him on that front as well as the suicide attempts.”

“He’s flatlining!” someone near the ambulance shouted, and John’s heart was in his throat.  He couldn’t—it wasn’t—he didn’t know what he would do if Alexander didn’t make it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First and foremost, if you follow my tumblr you may know that I’m in GOTV here at the campaign office and, as such, am having a fucking mental breakdown—I’m crazy stressed, I’m exhausted, and I’m pretty much living off donuts and Chinese food. Essentially, come love me. Or yell at me for this chapter. That makes me happy, too.
> 
> I got the idea for “It’s better to leave than to be replaced” while at a Panic concert this past Friday. They were doing Nicotine and said this line and my whole brain just went “Eyes!” Thinking of angst while at a concert is how to do it. (They also did Victorious and I screamed during the Eyes line.)
> 
> I just realized that John’s texts sound weird; that is actually how I text. I can’t do incomplete grammar or sentences or whatever—it’s not right, and that stresses me out.
> 
> There actually is a Senate election this year, although I’m not entirely sure if either South Carolina seat is up. I haven’t done that much research into it. It’s not that important for this story if it’s accurate. I actually wasn’t planning on writing the campaign, but I guess it’s happening now.  
> I have no fucking idea where John and Alexander live, but I can tell you from experience that it takes twelve hours to drive from Charleston, South Carolina, to Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. So it’s a bit further than that? I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.
> 
> I was hyper-conscious of Laf’s pronouns this chapter because I was literally arguing with someone over my pronouns (also they/them) in the middle of writing this. If I slipped up at all, let me know.
> 
> It comes across weird, I know, but Alexander’s third suicide attempt has nothing to do with trying to get John to stay or jealousy (threatening to kill yourself so that your significant other stays is a kind of abusive relationship, kids). He’s in a really fucking bad headspace, and seeing John be kissed by someone else set off his suicidal tendencies. He didn’t run out intending to kill himself, though. Bad headspace and bad timing.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tears and arguments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know the drill. Warnings for mentions of suicide and for Henry Laurens being an absolute asshole.

John had tried desperately to get to Alexander, but the EMTs hadn’t allowed him.  Instead, he was forced to head back to his apartment to get his car so he could head to the hospital. 

He had to stop in the apartment to grab his car keys and his phone before heading to the hospital.  The drive was quick—in fact, he didn’t even really remember most of it, just getting in his car and ending up under the glaring lights of the waiting room.

John felt like he had spent far too much time in the goddamn hospital already—all the days before finding out about Alexander’s aphasia and the days following his first suicide attempt.

Neither time had been nearly as nerve-wracking as this.  With the first situation John had been terrified, but the threat of Alexander dying hadn’t been the same.  With the second, Alexander had already been stabilized by the time John had gotten there.

He couldn’t get the shouts of “he’s flatlining!” out of his head.  God almighty, no matter what happened, that phrase would haunt John’s dreams.

He stared at his phone, clasped between his hands in a sort of desperation.  He knew that everyone else was enjoying themselves at the party, but he couldn’t do this alone—he was torn.

Finally, John decided to call Eliza.  He knew that she wouldn’t mind.

“Hey, John.”  John was surprised at how sober she sounded before remembering that she was the designated driver.  “Where’d you and Alexander get to?  Off having fun somewhere?”

John’s nerves were too strung out to handle either Eliza’s words or her suggestive tone—he burst into tears.

“John?”

“We’re at the hospital.  Alexander…again…I don’t even know if he’s alive.  God almighty, Eliza, there was so much blood.  And the last thing that I heard was that he was flatlining and I just don’t know…I can’t…”

“I’m on my way,” Eliza promised.

“You don’t have to leave the party for my sake,” John protested, but Eliza cut him off.

“You need me more than the party does.  That’s what friends are for.”

Eliza stayed on the phone with John until the moment she stepped into the waiting room.  Upon seeing her, John started crying again, wracking sobs, and Eliza rushed over to gather him into her arms, letting him cling to her and sob into her shoulder.  She stroked his hair while he cried, a calming gesture.

They sat there for about an hour, Eliza holding John in silence.  She knew that words would be no help.

“Alexander Hamilton?”

John jumped up more quickly than Eliza could free her arms from around him, both of them ending up on the floor.

“Sorry!” John exclaimed to both Eliza and the nurse.  “Is Alexander okay?”

“Follow me, please.”

That sounded…not good.  John was panicking, breath hitching on the lump in his throat.  He couldn’t breathe.  He could feel himself shaking, terrified that they were being led to a lifeless Alexander.

He felt fingers lace through his own and looked over at Eliza, who squeezed his hand carefully.  He appreciated the gesture—it was grounding, feeling skin against his own.  He did, however, wish that it was Alexander’s skin pressed against his, the two of them pressed together in their bed—he prayed to the God of his childhood that he would ever be able to have Alexander in bed again.

They were led to an office rather than a room, and John’s heart threatened to beat out of his chest.  If Alexander was okay they would be taken to see him, right?

There was only one chair on the side of the desk for patients or families, so John gave it to Eliza and stood, trying not to have a complete breakdown.

It was a few more minutes before a doctor entered the room.

“Is Alexander okay?” John demanded before the man could even open his mouth.

The doctor didn’t answer John, looking instead at Eliza.  “Are you his girlfriend?”

Eliza looked surprised for a moment, then shook her head.  “No, I’m just a friend.  John is his boyfriend, though.”  She tugged gently on the sleeve of John’s sweatshirt.

For a moment John thought that the doctor was going to say something homophobic—he definitely had that look around him, like he wanted to say something that he knew that he shouldn’t—but then he inclined his head instead.

“Mr. Hamilton is in critical condition, but we have reason to believe that he will pull through.  It was very close, but he should survive.”

John deflated—he stayed on his feet, but it was a bit close.  Alexander was alive.  Alexander was alive.

“Can I see him?  _Please_?”

The doctor hesitated for a moment, then nodded.  “He’s not conscious—we had to sedate him for his own safety a few hours ago; he should wake up soon—but you can see him.”  He led John and Eliza to the room and let them in, although he didn’t join them, respecting their privacy.

Alexander looked…Alexander looked…dear lord.  John knew that he was alive, but he didn’t look it.  The only signs of life were the number of machines Alexander was attached to and the faint but steady rise and fall of his chest.  He was a sickly color, probably from blood loss, heavy bandages around his right arm and his chest.

John pulled a chair up to the bed and sat, taking hold of one of Alexander’s hands and pressing a kiss to it.

“I’ll be in the waiting room,” Eliza whispered.  “If you don’t mind, I’m going to call the others.”

John nodded just slightly and Eliza left, leaving John alone with Alexander.

"Hey, sweetheart.  You are so, so strong, you know that?  So strong and so beautiful and so brave.  But you can't keep doing this—I know you're hurting, I know it's hard, but you are going to make it through.  You have friends who will do anything for you—I'll do anything for you.  You have so much to live for, sweetheart, and I'll do whatever I can to prove it to you.  When you get better I'm going to take you to bed and kiss every single one of your scars.  I'm going to remind you just how loved you are.  I'm going to kiss all of your scars, then everywhere else, too.  You deserve that—you deserve so much more than that; I'll give you everything I can.  Anything at all that you want.  Just get better.  Please."

John knew that Alexander was unconscious and not able to hear him, but it still hurt that Alexander didn’t respond.  It hurt to see Alexander so lifeless since he tended to be so animated.  Even asleep Alexander wasn’t completely still—his face, at least, kept moving; he talked, sort of, in his sleep.  But now, thanks to the meds he was on, Alexander was completely still.

John sat by Alexander’s side in silence for close to half an hour, praying to whatever deity would listen—he had been raised religious, although he didn’t still practice a religion, or even particularly believe in any gods.  He was interrupted by a ruckus outside the door of Alexander’s room, and Hercules, Lafayette, Peggy, and Angelica burst in, followed closely by a flustered Eliza.

“I tried to stop them,” she said apologetically.  “They wouldn’t listen.”

“Not your fault,” John replied, not letting go of Alexander’s hand.  “They’re drunk—they’re not going to listen to anyone.  I mean, they barely listen when they’re sober.”

Eliza chuckled.  “You’re right.”

There was a faint groan, and John snapped his head around to look at Alexander, who was blinking slowly, presumably swimming up through a fog of anesthesia. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he whispered, unable to stop the grin spreading across his face.  Alexander really was alive.  The others in the room started to cheer—at least, most of them.

“Alexander Hamilton!” Angelica snapped, elbowing in front of John, hands on her hips.  “How _dare_ you pull a stunt like that?  Your life isn’t just your own—you have people who care about you.  You do _not_ get to do shit like that, do you understand?”

Peggy slipped a hand over Angelica’s mouth.  “Stop,” she murmured.  “You’re making things worse.”

John heard a soft, broken gasp—the kind made when one’s heart was breaking but one was trying damn hard not to cry—and he looked over at Alexander, who had tears streaming down his face.

“Yelling at Alexander isn’t going to fix anything,” Peggy continued, but Angelica wasn’t listening to her sister.

“Don’t you ever do anything like this again,” Angelica ordered, shaking free of Peggy’s loose hold.  “We have a stake in your life, too—it’s not merely your own.  You’ll break John, not to mention the rest of us.  How dare you be so _selfish_?”

John stood, completely cold, and grabbed Angelica’s wrist, walking her into the nearest wall.  He pinned her there, trapped between the wall and his body.  “You don’t get to talk to Alexander like that.  It’s not like it was entirely a choice.”  His voice was stony, no hint of emotion or warmth in it.  “You try losing everything, try suffering from depression—don’t blame Alexander.  In fact, in yelling at him, you’re making it worse.  You are becoming part of the problem.  And you are _not allowed_ to do that.”

“Stop.”

The voice was quiet and wobbly.  John glanced over at Alexander, who was crying harder, body shaking from the force of his sobs.  “Stop,” he repeated.

John crossed back to the bed, reaching for Alexander’s hand, but Alexander drew his hand towards his body, turning away from John.

“Out.””  Alexander’s voice was still shaking, but it was louder.  “Eliza, stay.  Out.”

Eliza sat in what had been John’s chair, taking Alexander’s hand.

John understood why Alexander wanted him out, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.  All the same, he would respect Alexander’s request, following his other friends out the door and back to the waiting room.

Once there, John rested his head in his hands, trying to calm his breathing down.  And then, to make matters worse, his phone rang.  Incoming call from his father.  Fuck.

“Hello.”

“Jack.”

“What do you want?”

“The media is going to have its eyes on you.  They know where you go to school, they know that I’m looking at a presidential bid next term, and they’re watching the whole family.  I understand that you have a…that you and Alexander are…that you’re…”

“That I’m gay?  That Alexander is my boyfriend?  It’s not that hard to say.”

“Yes, all that.  But I would highly recommend finding a suitable girl.  As I said, the press is going to be watching you.”

“I thought you had resigned yourself to the fact that I’m gay.  That you were using my relationship with Alexander to try and appeal to any more liberal voters?”

“That was the plan.  But people are threatening to pull my funding for looking like I support your…lifestyle.  Find yourself a girl, Jack.  I’m not giving you a choice.”

He hung up, and John threw his phone.  Everyone stared at him—not just his friends, but the other people in the waiting room as well.

“My dad.”

Before anyone could say any more, Peggy’s phone vibrated.  “Eliza says we can go back.  Except Angelica.  Alexander doesn’t want her anywhere near him.”  She glared at her sister.  “And I can’t say that I blame him.  John, you can tell us what your dad said when we get back to the room.”  She handed John his phone.  When she had picked it up he wasn’t sure, but he appreciated it anyway.

The group filtered back into the room.  John looked at his feet instead of at Alexander, not ready to look at his boyfriend after being kicked out of the room.

“So, your dad called you?” Hercules asked.

John sighed.  “Yeah.  Basically told me that the media knows where I go to school—which means that he probably told them—and, because he’s looking for the presidency next term, they’re going to start watching us.  Meaning me and my siblings.  He’s a high-ranking senator; I’d gotten used to being in the public eyes.  I thought that I escaped it when I left for school.  But clearly not.  And, worse, he told me that he’s losing his fucking conservative backers for daring to be gay.  I’m supposed to find a good girl to date.  I’m under strict orders.”  He glanced at Alexander, who was very pointedly looking away.

“Alexander.”

“No.  Girl.”

Alexander, I’m not going to find a girlfriend just to appease my father.  I’m still very gay and very in love with you.”

Peggy and Eliza were whispering in the corner.

“So,” Peggy said.  “We were thinking.  Your father wants you to have a girlfriend, right?  And, I’d imagine, a respectable one.  Are you entirely opposed to fake dating?”

“What do you mean?”

Eliza smiled.  “Peggy could be your fake girlfriend, just for your father. And, to ease suspicions even more, I can fake date Alexander.  Go on double dates—Peggy and I can chill together so you and Alexander can do your thing.”

“That’s…actually brilliant,” John said.  “Alexander?”

Alexander nodded.

“I mean, it’s going to have to wait until Alexander gets out of the hospital, but it’s brilliant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo I have a physical anthropology paper due tomorrow on if religion and evolution can coexist that I've barely started, but I finished this instead. I have until 11:59 tomorrow night. Also, I'm super hype because I'm seeing Civil War tomorrow!
> 
> I like the idea of John having been raised religious in a Southern church, so that’s thrown in there a bit.
> 
> Fight Angelica Squad in here for Blaire. It’s supposed to be John, Eliza, Peggy, and Laf, but it ended up being just Peggy and John (for now, maybe).
> 
> If you like this, I would recommend subscribing to the series--there's a oneshot coming that's an alternate version of this chapter, so that'll be fun. Also, if there's anything you'd like to see in this verse, shoot me a message/ask on tumblr (smallinsaneone) and I'll write you a oneshot!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief mentions of suicide attempts

Alexander was not happy.  “No,” he snapped, glaring at John.

“Alexander, you don’t have a choice.  You’ve tried to kill yourself three times and they can _help you_.”

“No,” Alexander said again.  “Refuse.”

“I don’t give a damn if you refuse,” John said, frustrated.  “Being hospitalized is going to help you.  I can’t lose you, but I can’t help you, either.  I know you don’t want to go, but your doctors have the power to institutionalize you against your will.  You’ve tried to kill yourself three times.”

Alexander crossed his arms, jaw set and expression stony.

“This isn’t a fight you can possibly win.”

“…fine.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” John said with a sigh of relief.  Arguing with Alexander was always exhausting, mostly because Alexander was so goddamn stubborn, and this was something that, despite not wanting, Alexander didn’t actually have a choice in.  He needed to get better.

Alexander held his arms out to John.  “Hold.”

John frowned.  “I don’t think I can.  The doctors probably wouldn’t be happy, not to mention that I don’t want to risk reopening your wounds.”

Frowning, Alexander crossed his arms tightly over his chest and curled up facing away from John.

John shook his head.  Alexander had been in an awful mood the last couple days, and John was pretty sure that it was a combination of pain, irritation at both Henry Laurens and the fake dating thing, and being really fucking pissed about still being alive (that last one was the hardest to deal with).

“Alexander, look at me.”

Alexander stubbornly refused to turn to face John.

John sighed and sat in the chair next to the bed, laying a hand on Alexander’s shoulder.  “I get that you’re mad at me, and I have to admit that if our places were switched I’d probably be mad, too.  But trust me that I’m doing the best thing for both of us, that I don’t like it any better than you, and that I love you very, very much.”  He stood, grabbing his bag.  “I have class tomorrow morning, so I need to get going.  Do you want me to come back tomorrow?”

Alexander didn’t answer, so John left.  He wasn’t positive, but he thought that he heard a tiny sob as he left the room.  It made him want to go back and hold Alexander, but he couldn’t. 

* * *

John was barely able to pay attention in his classes, as worried as he was about Alexander.  It was going beyond just the suicide attempts—this was the first time that they had really fought since getting together, and John was nervous about it.  Alexander wasn’t exactly stable, and while he couldn’t do anything stupid while he was in the hospital, that thought wasn’t exactly comforting.

He wasn’t really hungry, but he went to lunch between classes anyway, knowing that he needed to eat. 

As John picked half-heartedly at his mashed potatoes, Peggy and Eliza sat at his table.  Peggy gave him a peck on the cheek and John frowned at her, more confused than anything else.

She shrugged.  “From what I’ve heard of your father, it’s going to take more than just you saying that you’re dating a Schuyler sister to convince him.  We’re going to have to convince other people, too.”

The worst part was that Peggy was right.  There would be press, people who would recognize that John was a senator’s son, and, more likely than not, people who would be reporting back to his father.  He and Peggy would really have to play up their fake relationship.  It needed to be convincing.  It _had_ to convince his father.  John had gotten a text after leaving the hospital the night they decided to do the fake dating thing, one that really sold him on the whole situation.

**From: Father**

_If you cooperate, you can keep funding Alexander’s hospital stays, his therapy treatments, and his living arrangements.  I am more than capable of blocking money for these things, so cooperation would be in your best interest._

“We do have to make it convincing,” John said slowly, thinking about that text.  “My father is threatening to take away the money I’ve been using to take care of Alexander.  And since he’s going to have to spend some time in an institution—we both hate it, but they’ll help him more than I can.  He’s attempted suicide three times, which is three times too many.”

Eliza nodded.  “We can’t lose him.  I get that he’s miserable, but that’s no excuse for suicide.  There isn’t _any_ excuse for suicide.  I mean, Angelica’s reaction was a bit extreme, but that doesn’t make Alexander’s actions right, either.  Not the part where he threw her out—I totally understand that; I would have done the same—but…ugh, you know what I mean.  I totally lost track of that whole point.”

Peggy laughed, reaching over to steal a bite of the mashed potatoes that John wasn’t eating.  “Good going, ‘Liza.”

Eliza stuck her tongue out at her sister, who flipped her off in return.

“Wow, so glad I’m friends with such mature people,” John teased.  He stood, grabbing his plate.  He’d eaten next to nothing, but he really wasn’t hungry.  “I need to head off to class.”

Peggy stood as well, grabbing John’s free hand.  “Making it convincing,” she said with a wink.

“If I didn’t know that you’re ace and aro I would think that you’re enjoying this a little too much, Pegs,” Eliza said.

Peggy wrinkled her nose.  “Nah, I’m not interested in him.  He's pretty, but no.  No offense, John.  Besides, you and Alexander are far too cute for me to even imagine messing with.  I ship it.”  She laughed.  “Let’s get to class.”

* * *

When John entered the hospital he was intercepted by one of the doctors who had been working with Alexander. 

“We’re planning on discharging him from his current ward today.  Since you said you want him to remain hospitalized for the suicide attempts and depression, you have two options.  He can be placed in our psychiatric ward or you can find an independent facility.

John had already been doing research and had found a facility not far from campus—about a twenty-minute drive.  He had already done pretty much everything short of actually dropping Alexander off (and the paperwork that needed to be done when that occurred).

“I’ve already found a place.”

The doctor nodded.  “I just need you to come sign a few papers and then you can take Mr. Hamilton.”

* * *

Alexander stared out the window as they drove, not acknowledging John’s attempts at conversation.  John was concerned, but he also understood where his boyfriend was coming from.  He was pretty sure that if he were in Alexander’s place he wouldn’t be the happiest either.

“I found this place for you,” John said.  He needed to tell Alexander, even if it wasn’t a conversation.  He knew that his boyfriend could at least hear him.  “It’s nice—I’ve already looked around, at least in what they could show me.  I know you don’t want to go, but it’s going to be a good place for you.  They have a great library and they know about your aphasia.”

Alexander sighed, turning to face John for the first time since they had gotten in the car.  “School?”

John frowned in confusion.  “What do you mean, sweetheart?”

“Do school?”

“ _Oh_.  You want to try going back to school?”

“Yes.  Scholarship.  Online.”

“A disability scholarship?”

Alexander nodded, eyes bright.  “Want to.  Can.”

“I believe in you.”  And John did.  Alexander had always been capable of doing anything he put his mind to—he had written his way to the United States and college, after all—so John had absolutely no doubt that Alexander would work around his aphasia to graduate.

John pulled into the parking lot of their apartment building and Alexander looked at him in confusion.

“We have to pack some things up before we take you in,” John explained.  “I didn’t want to do it for you—I wanted to let you choose what you wanted.  I mean, they do have rules, but that’s okay.”

He took Alexander’s hand and pulled him up to the apartment, then sat on the bed as Alexander chose shirts (unsurprisingly, the first thing Alexander packed was the South Carolina shirt).

It didn’t take long for Alexander to pack, and then he was turning to John with tears in his eyes and throwing himself at his boyfriend.  John held Alexander while he sobbed.

“Missed.  Miss.”

“I missed you too, sweetheart.  I’m going to miss you.  But this is better, and you know it.  Because then I won’t have to lose you.”  He kissed Alexander’s forehead, then rested his cheek against Alexander’s hair.  “It’s only for a bit.  And I know that you’re going to be stubborn as always, but if you cooperate you’ll be home faster.  I love you, you know that.”

Alexander nodded.  “Love you.”

* * *

John was looking through paperwork as an employee tried to get Alexander to talk to him.  Alexander, for his part, was very stubbornly refusing, not that John could really blame him.  Alexander hated talking to new people since his accident, hated people associating his broken sentences with his level of intelligence, which, unfortunately, happened a lot.

“Alexander,” John called as he finished with the papers.  “These need your signature, too.”

Looking very glad to have an excuse to escape the man trying to make conversation, Alexander hurried over to John, hooking his chin over his boyfriend’s shoulder.  John pointed at where Alexander’s signature was needed and Alexander signed.

Then John turned to face him.  “This is where I leave you, sweetheart.”  He hated watching Alexander’s face fall at the words, but he couldn’t stay any longer.

“There are visiting hours on Saturdays.  I’ll be here as often as you want me.”

“Always.”

John smiled.  “Then I’ll always be here.  And you can call me.  Not often, but you can.  I love you, sweetheart.”

Alexander stood on his tiptoes to grab a kiss.  “Love you.”

* * *

Driving away was hard.  John had been so focused on talking Alexander into getting help that he hadn’t thought about the side of it that would affect him.  It wasn’t like it was new, leaving Alexander at a hospital to go home to an empty bed, but this was different.  He couldn’t come see his boyfriend every day, for one.

He remembered Alexander’s words about going back to school.  That was something he could do while Alexander was recovering.  He would need to talk to a lot of people, but he was sure that he could make it work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, this was really short. I'm not thrilled, but getting through this was nearly impossible. I just couldn't write it for whatever reason.
> 
> I don't know how hospitals or institutions like the one Alexander's now in works...I'm going off Cut and Sharps Hour (Sharps Hour is an amazing fic; read it).
> 
> Lastly, I'm home for the summer, which means two things. One, I'm not going to have schoolwork interfering with my writing (but I will have work work). Two, I'm back to being misgendered and treated like an infant in everything I do, so I might be ranting a lot in my notes here. I hate being home with a passion, but I'm not allowed to say anything about it (there have been several times over the last week where I've wanted desperately to channel my inner chapter-twelve-Alexander...). Today was hell over my retainers, of all things. Yesterday I got accused of using my anxiety to get out of things, and I can't possibly have anxiety because there are a lot of things that I can do. Sorry, both for this and for future rants. It's not anything I should be yelling to you guys about, but I don't have any other outlets. I'm so sorry.
> 
> As always, tumblr is smallinsaneone.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John does something important for Alexander.

It had taken three days, longer than John would have liked, but he had finally gotten a meeting arranged with Benjamin Franklin, the president of the school.  He hadn’t been above using both his father’s name and the Schuyler sisters’ connections to get in, but it had finally paid off.  He was sitting in the area outside Franklin’s office, waiting nervously for his meeting.

When he was finally admitted to the office, Franklin was waiting to greet him.

“John Laurens, correct?”

John nodded, unsure of how to address the man.  Was Mr. Franklin okay, or was he supposed to use the title of President?  He wasn’t sure.

“I was forwarded your email—you said it was something important to you.  Can you explain?”

This was the easy part, really.  He just had to talk about Alexander.

“I don’t know if you remember, but at the beginning of second semester last year a full-scholarship international student transferred into the school—Alexander Hamilton.  He was forced to drop out last semester due to extenuating circumstances, but wishes to resume his education.”

“Extenuating circumstances?”

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, John nodded.  “We were attending an event and an accident occurred, leading to brain damage on Alexander’s part.  Broca’s aphasia.  This comes from damage to Broca’s area in the brain, which has to do with speech.  Essentially, it’s very difficult for Alexander to talk and write fluently or quickly.  Unfortunately, this was not properly addressed in regards to school by Alexander or anyone else, so his grades plummeted and he had to drop out due to the impeding loss of his scholarship and a consequent inability to pay tuition.  The thing is, it’s not Alexander’s fault.  He was working his—he was working extremely hard to try and keep his grades up and keep up, keep his scholarship.  He wants to come back.  He just can’t at the moment.  All he would need is tuition.  We live in an off-campus apartment and I have an unlimited meal plan that we can share.  Tuition is the only thing not covered, and he can’t afford it.”

Franklin was watching John intently as he tried to explain Alexander’s situation and John’s heart was pounding.  He had to succeed, but he couldn’t tell from Franklin’s face how he was faring.

“Please, sir, Alexander deserves a chance.”

“I will talk it over with the board and let you know our decision,” Franklin said calmly.  

John nodded.  “Thank you, sir.”  It was better than an outright no.

* * *

Classes weren’t exactly easy to sit through as John waited to hear back from Franklin.  He would be going to see Alexander in about a week and he wanted to be able to tell his boyfriend the news then.

He was curled on the sofa doing his reading for the day when his phone rang. 

_Henry Laurens._

John was so not in the mood to talk to his father, but he couldn’t ignore a phone call.  It wouldn’t go well.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Jack.”  Henry’s voice was slimy smooth and John wanted nothing more than to hang up on him.  He knew the consequences of that, though, so he didn’t.  “I was just calling to check up on you.  Are your grades okay?”

“They’re fine,” John replied, not at all engaged in the conversation.

“Fine isn’t good enough.  They need to be better than fine.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Wonderful.  Now, have you found yourself a girlfriend yet?”

John balled his free hand into a fist.  God, he hated his father.  “Yes.  Peggy Schuyler.”

“Schuyler?  One of Philip Schuyler’s daughters?”

“Yes, the youngest.  She’s in my year.  An intel major.  She should meet your requirements for a suitable girlfriend.  After all, she’s wealthy and, more importantly, female.” 

“Cut the sarcasm, Jack.”

“Sorry, sir,” John muttered.

“I have to go.  Make sure that your grades are better than fine, that everything works out with you and the Schuyler girl, and that you come home for your breaks as we discussed.  I will talk to you later.”

He hung up, and John buried his face in a pillow and screamed.  He couldn’t escape his father even now, hours and states away.

* * *

The next day was John’s first formal "date" with Peggy.  He knew that his father checked his Facebook and other social media regularly—it had been a condition of having it—so he needed to have convincing photographic evidence.

It wasn’t nearly as awkward as John had feared it would be.  Peggy was sweet and smarter than anyone gave her credit for, challenging even the wit John had heard from Angelica.  When he said as much, Peggy rolled her eyes.

“Angelica’s the oldest and loudest, and Eliza’s the cinnamon roll.  There’s no room for the quiet youngest, you know?  It’s not that I’m not capable of keeping up with my sisters, it’s that I’m never given the chance.  I take advantage of that, though—I mean, I notice _everything_.  It’s why I’m going into the field that I am.  But it’s nice not having to compete, you know?  It’s nice not having to be ‘and Peggy,’ but just Peggy.  If I wasn’t ace and aro I would totally have a crush on you—you get me.  We’re the same, you and I.”

John raised his eyebrows.  “I don’t get it.  I’m not exactly quiet and all that.”

Peggy tilted her head.  “No, but you’re used to being silenced, to biting your tongue.  If I had to guess, I’d say that your dad drilled expected behavior into you young and with…unorthodox methods.  I work in a shelter when I’m home, have for years.  I know signs to look for if someone was abused.”

John’s plate was suddenly completely fascinating to look at.  The plain white porcelain was the most enchanting thing he had seen in a long time.

“I’m not wrong, and it’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Peggy murmured.  “It’s not your fault, you hear me?  All this is something wrong with your father, not with you.  I understand that you’re still trapped, but you shouldn’t keep all this bottled up.  It’s not healthy.”

“Alexander needs me,” John snapped back, voice muted.

Peggy laid her hand over John’s.  “I know.  But helping yourself doesn’t mean abandoning Alexander.  It just makes you stronger, better equipped to help those you love.  Get me?”

John nodded slowly.  “I must say, this is the most depressing first date that I’ve ever been on.”

Peggy laughed, eyes gleaming.  “Well, we could fix that.  Take some pictures for your father.  I know how this all works.”

“Have you ever fake dated someone before?”

“No, I just read…a lot.  And hey, I think we need to make friend dates a thing because it’s super nice just being to hang out with someone like this.”

John nodded.  “I have to admit, I totally fell into your quiet sister ruse.  I’m sorry about that; you’re way cooler than I thought you would be.”

Peggy winked at him.  “That means it’s working.”

* * *

Once they left the coffeeshop, John took Peggy to a nearby arcade.  He was worried that it would be a bit childish, but she seemed to be having a great time, and she kicked his ass at skee ball, so they ended up devolving into friendly ribbing and laughing to the point where John’s ribs ached and he had tears streaming down his cheeks.  It made him miss the times before Alexander’s accident, when Alexander had been snippy and able to make John laugh at anything.  He decided that he would have to bring Alexander to the arcade once he was out of the hospital for good.  They could bring Peggy and Eliza along, make it a double date in case there was anyone around who knew John’s father.

The pair took a bunch of photos at the arcade, which all turned out more than adorable, to the point where John was almost worried about posting them because of Alexander.  But Alexander was safe and being cared for and Henry Laurens was still out there in the world making John’s life a living hell.

People gushed over them.  He had a lot of followers on social media because of who his father was and because he had been in the public eye his whole life, so he was getting a lot of comments about how adorable he was with his girlfriend.  These were people who, for the most part, didn’t know that he was gay, didn’t know that he had—or had ever had—a boyfriend, didn’t know in the slightest who John actually was.  They only knew the public image that Henry made his son project.

There were a few who recognized Peggy as a Schuyler, and those were the ones who had some less approving things to say.  Philip Schuyler tended to be somewhat more left wing than the typical Laurens supporters, and people knew it.  Still, it was good enough to satisfy John’s father, and that was all that mattered.

* * *

_From: Benjamin Franklin, President._

_To: Laurens, John_

_Subject: Alexander Hamilton_

_Mr. Laurens—_

_After consideration by myself, the board, and the financial department of the school, it has been decided to offer Mr. Hamilton the full cost of tuition, as well as assistance to help with his special circumstances.  We have a staff member in the Office of Learning Differences researching how to work with Broca’s aphasia patients in order to help Mr. Hamilton to the best of our abilities.  She should be available to help him within a week.  Additionally, Mr. Hamilton has been registered for classes as correspond with the programs he was registered in before his incident.  Please pass this message on to Mr. Hamilton, as he does not currently have a student email._

_Thank you for your care for your friend._

_Benjamin Franklin, Ph.D._

John shouted and punched the air.  Alexander could come back and it was going to be wonderful.

* * *

It had been over a week since John had seen Alexander, and he was extremely excited to see his boyfriend.

He was waiting in the common area for Alexander.  Some of the other patients were already sitting with their visitors, but John couldn’t see Alexander.

Suddenly, a force ran into John from behind and arms wrapped tightly around him.

“Alexander?” John asked, loosening the grip enough to turn around.

It was in fact Alexander, head buried in John’s chest.

“Hey, look at me, sweetheart.”

Alexander looked up.  He looked good, much better than when John had dropped him off, although that had to be due to the extra week and a half of time healing from his injuries.

“I have some things for you,” John said.  “I’ll give them to you if you let me go.”

Alexander slowly let go, face falling.  John quickly kissed his forehead, then grabbed his backpack, pulling out the folder he had stored there. 

He handed the folder to Alexander, who opened it looking confused.

On the top was Franklin’s email to John.  Alexander read it quickly, brow furrowed, then eyes lighting up as he realized what it was.  He flipped through the rest of the folder, looking over the class syllabuses John had printed for him.

“School,” he said happily.  “Back.”

John nodded.

“Yeah, sweetheart.  You’re going to be able to go back to school.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this in like three hours and it's really short and I'm not overly fond of it but I didn't know what else to do, so here you guys go.
> 
> It’s Aphasia Awareness Month! It’s also Pride Month, so to any of my LGBT+ readers, I love you guys. Orlando was a horrifying reminder of why Pride is so important, so stay strong and beautiful.
> 
> I’m getting an MRI tomorrow, so I’m a bit nervous (since it’s the kind where they’re going to stick a needle into my hip joint yikes) and writing to try to be less nervous. I hope that doesn’t show in here.
> 
> I just started a new AU that’s a bit like Firefly, Killed the Dinosaurs, so check that out if you’re interested. I’m also considering a Heathers AU because Heathers is my new favorite movie. I have it all planned out in my head. Would anyone be interested?
> 
> Finally, congrats to the cast and everyone involved on eleven Tonys! I’m so proud of all of you.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John shouldn't leave.

Alexander couldn’t come home yet, so John had been forced to walk away from him several more times over the few weeks that he was in the hospital.  He knew that it was for the best, but that didn’t make it any easier.  He wanted nothing more than to be able to curl up with Alexander in their bed, to be able to touch and be touched, to kiss every last one of Alexander’s scars and remind him that he was so, so loved, to finally be able to again fall asleep holding his boyfriend.

Instead, John had to fall asleep alone, wrapping himself around a blanket, as if that could possibly serve as a substitute for his absent boyfriend.

One morning, he grabbed his phone to find three missed calls and one voicemail from an unknown number, which was immediate cause for concern.  His first thought was that something had happened to Alexander, which wasn’t completely impossible, given the precedent.  He was well watched and should be safe, but he was smart and crafty.

“Hello, Jack, this is Jane Bates.  I’m a staffer on your father’s campaign.  He asked me—well, he had a staffer assigned, and it happened to be me—to remind you that you have a break coming up in two weeks and that you promised to come home for the campaign.  He also said—hang on…”  There was a brief sound of shuffling papers.  “He also said to bring Peggy Schuyler along, if you could.  Martha Manning was recently found to be—was recently found kissing a girl by an old friend who came up to surprise her at school, and since the two of you dated, questions are being asked about you, especially since you’ve never been seen with a girlfriend other than her.”  There was a beep and the voicemail cut off.

Martha had been outed.  Knowing the Manning family, that was bad.  Martha had once mentioned her family’s belief in religious therapy, the so called “pray the gay away” bullshit, and so she was probably in terrible trouble.  At least Henry Laurens was too concerned with his image to pull that, not to mention that he probably believed that he had scared John into being straight with his threats.  That wasn’t true, but John was willing to pretend that it was as long as it kept Alexander safe.  He would do anything to keep Alexander safe.

**To: Peggy**

_Hey, my dad wants you to come to South Carolina over break to help keep up appearances.  You don’t have to, but I’d seriously owe you one._

John’s phone buzzed almost instantly—Peggy must have been on her when he texted her.

**From: Peggy**

_Was just planning on hanging here not going home.  What should I pack?_

**To: Peggy**

_How nice do you have?  I’m sure there’s going to be at least one gala.  That’s how my dad works._

**From: Peggy**

_I’ll have my dad send me one of my gala dresses.  You’re not the only one with a dad in politics._

**To: Peggy**

_You’re the actual best._

**From: Peggy**

_Nah, that’s Liz.  I’m just protecting my friends.  It’s the least I can do._

**To: Father**

_Peggy will be down with me.  Given the length of this break, I’d imagine you want us flying.  Do we have flight information yet?_

There was no way that Henry Laurens would let John arrange his own flight.  He probably suspected that his oldest would avoid actually doing it then claim a missed flight or something.  (He wasn’t entirely wrong; John would try it if he could).

**From: Father**

_I was waiting on confirmation if your girlfriend was coming along.  I’ll have someone book it and email you the information._

**To: Father**

_Thank you._

John’s stomach turned as he sent the thank you—there was no tiny bit of him that meant it in the slightest, but he would catch hell if he didn’t send it.  Henry Laurens was big on Southern manners, at least insofar as please and thank you, and being polite to strangers (as long as they were the right kind of strangers; no gay people or anyone else that was deemed “unsavory”).  That didn’t extend to, oh, not abusing one’s children for having a mind and different political beliefs, but still.

Shit, he was going to have to tell Alexander.  It wasn’t like John was going to be gone long, not even a week, but he was going to miss a visiting day, something he had promised not to do if he could.  Alexander would understand, of course—he knew about Henry—but it still wasn’t going to be fun or easy to tell him what was going on.

* * *

John walked into the visiting area, stomach turning.  He didn’t want to have to tell Alexander what was going on with his family, with his being forced away to South Carolina, but he had to.

Before John could start, however, Alexander waltzed up grinning and excited.

“Home soon!”

“What?”

A petite nurse stepped up to explain.  “We are planning to discharge Alexander next Saturday.”

Alexander hopped closer to give John a hug, one he didn’t return.  Alexander took a step back, looking understandably worried.

“This actually ties in with what I had to tell you, sweetheart.”

Alexander’s eyes widened and started to water.  John gasped, realizing that what he had said could have come across as the start of breaking up or something.

“No, no, don’t worry.  It’s only that next week is a break from classes and my dad wants me down south because of the campaign.  Basically, I’m not going to be in the area next Saturday.  I’ll be in South Carolina with Peggy.”

Alexander visibly relaxed as soon as it became clear that he wasn’t losing John or anything.  “Okay.  Eliza?”

John looked over at the nurse.  “Can someone who isn’t me pick him up?”

She nodded.  “Yes, I can add that to his file so that this other person can pick him up.  Their name?”

“Elizabeth Schuyler.  Eliza.”

The nurse nodded, writing the name down and walking off to let John have some time with Alexander.

“I’m sorry that I won’t be around when you get out,” John murmured, and Alexander shrugged. 

“Not you.  Dad.”

John shrugged.  “Still.  I was willing to let him take from me—I’m used to it.  But I don’t like that he’s taking from you now.  You, Peggy, Eliza…he takes and takes and takes and claims to give, but he doesn’t.  All he gives is fear and grief and pain.”

“Pain?  Abuse?”  Alexander was looking up at John from where he was nestled against his side, clearly worried.

John was about to lie, say that he only meant the cutting words that came from his father so often, but Alexander looked so worried—not to mention that he had done so much that John had asked, what with the hospital and all—that he couldn’t lie.

“Yeah.  He dotes on the younger ones, but Martha and I are…not so lucky.  He won’t hit Martha since she’s a girl and that’s against whatever values he does have, but that never helped me any.  Of course, he had to keep his image, so it was never anywhere that wasn’t able to be covered by clothing, but…”

Alexander frowned, pulling John close.  “Sorry.  Love you.”

“Don’t apologize.  I don’t want sympathy.  It’s just something I lived through.  And I love you, too.”

* * *

Packing for South Carolina was stressful.  John wanted things that were comfortable, but he knew that his dad expected him to dress nicely.  He had to find some kind of middle ground that would suit them both, but he didn’t have to like it.  He hated playing the part that Henry demanded of him—it wasn’t at all who John was.  In fact, it was exact opposite of who John was.

“John?”  The voice belonged to Peggy.  John wasn’t sure how she’d gotten in, but that was something to worry about at a later date.  He didn’t have the time or energy to focus on it at the time being.

“In here.”

She poked her head into the room.  “We’ve got to get going soon if we want to make that flight.”

“Can’t we just _accidentally_ miss it?”

Peggy laughed.  “I wish.  But I know how your dad treats you, and that would be an awful idea.  You know that.”

John sighed.  “I do.  Wishful thinking.”

Peggy sighed.  “Listen, I know about your dad.  If he does anything, let me know.  I have ways to bring him down without him ever knowing what hit him.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re kind of terrifying?” John asked, and Peggy laughed. 

“It’s a talent.  Let’s go.”

* * *

The flight was uneventful and John and Peggy were met by a member of Henry Laurens’ staff at the airport.

“Surprised he didn’t meet us himself and use it as a press opportunity,” John muttered to Peggy as they got into the car.

She laughed.  “I guess whatever is going on is more important, which sucks.  My dad would never have anything so important that he couldn’t get us this far out from an election.  I mean, my dad isn’t an asshole unlike yours, so there’s that.”

John burst out laughing and Peggy grinned.  “I can’t get you out of this stupid commitment or get you back to Alexander, but at least I can make you laugh.”

“You are going to get on so well with my sister.  And my ex.  Or you would, if I was going to be able to have any contact with said ex.  We dated for appearances—she’s gay, too—but she’s been outed, which means that she’s probably locked away somewhere until she’s convincingly straight.”  John didn’t want to think about what was happening to Martha.  He couldn’t. 

“That’s terrible,” Peggy murmured.  “There are far worse things than being LGBT, things that are criminal offenses and yet those people are protected by their families.  Rapists who everyone insists are good guys—and it was all the girl’s fault, of course—people with records for assault or abuse or anything else.  And yet it’s the gays that are the problem.  Most of us aren’t about to hurt anyone.  God, I hate bigots.”

The car pulled up in front of Henry Laurens’ campaign headquarters, media crowding against the windows.

“We’re kind of local celebrities,” John whispered to Peggy.  “They know who I am, and, by this point, they know who you are.  Hold my hand, keep your head down, and for the love of god don’t say anything to anyone.”

Peggy nodded and John opened the door, pulling Peggy after him as he pushed through the media swarm.

“Jack,” Henry said as the pair entered.  “So glad you actually made it.  And so nice to meet Miss Schuyler.”

Peggy waved, not looking Henry in the eye.

“Jacky!”  John’s siblings came running to greet their big brother, happy to see him.  He was happy to see them as well—with the exception of Martha they did share Henry’s beliefs, but they were too young to know otherwise, so John couldn’t hold it against them.  Plus, they were too cute to hate, especially Harry.

“This is Peggy,” John said.  “She’s my girlfriend.”  He hated saying those words, but he knew that he had to.

“Hi,” Peggy said, crouching down to Harry’s level.  “It’s nice to meet you.  You must be Harry, right?  And you’re Mary, and Martha.  I’ve heard a lot about you guys.  John loves you all a lot.”

Harry and Mary started asking Peggy questions and Martha pulled John away from the group.

“What the hell, Jack?” she demanded.

“What?”

“Last time you were here you were all excited about Alexander—your _boyfriend_ , Jack—and the two of you were pretty clearly in love.  But now you’re here with someone you’re calling your girlfriend.  It just feels wrong.”

John sighed, looking around.  “Okay, you’ve gotta keep this quiet.  Father threatened me—said that if I didn’t find myself a girlfriend he would take away money for things like Alexander’s therapy and hospital and stuff.  I couldn’t do that.  So Peggy and I are fake dating—I’m still actually with Alexander.  It’s all a show.”

Martha nodded.  “Makes sense.  Did you hear about Martha Manning?”

“I heard she was outed, and I can only imagine what happened next.  Conversion therapy?”

“You’ve got it.  Be careful, Jack.”

* * *

There was a gala that night, so John unwillingly put on his nicest suit and played nice with bigots and racists.  He hated those events so much, but he had to attend.  At least he had Peggy to keep him company.  She looked stunning, enough that all eyes were on her and several people approached her with compliments.  She kept up a running commentary under her breath, one that only John could hear.  It kept him going through the evening and there were times, times that he was extremely thankful for, that she had him laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe.

“I wish I had had you around sooner!” he joked as they left when the evening was over.

Peggy grinned.  “The three of us—me, Angelica, and Eliza—always do this at Daddy’s galas.  He finds it funny, too, although I feel like your dad wouldn’t appreciate it like he does.”

“Yeah, no, no way in hell.  He would ream you out, no doubt.”

“I’m sure.  Night, John.”

“Good night, Peggy,” John replied, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek.

* * *

**From: Eliza**

_On my way to pick up Alexander!!! :)_

**To: Eliza**

_Awesome.  I’ll call when I’m free later on.  Probably not until the evening._

**From: Eliza**

_Sounds good._

* * *

John was standing between Peggy and Martha when his phone started ringing.  Answering it wasn’t an option, so he let it go to voicemail—it was probably Alexander, who would understand.

A moment later, however, Peggy’s started ringing.  Since she wasn’t a family member, she could step away from the donor-greeting line to answer it.  When she returned, she looked upset.

“John, that was the hospital.  There was a car crash on the way home after Eliza picked up Alexander.  They’re alive, but not in good shape.  I need to go back, and I need you to come along.  Apparently Alexander is panicking and they can’t calm him down.  The only thing he says is your name.  You need to go home for him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s a new oneshot on its way based on this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sS4BL40GkX0. It’s just feeling really awkward and stilted right now, so it could be a while.
> 
> I just had to change around my outline to fit what I actually have written…I’m currently planning for twenty-eight chapters, but that might get extended if I have to push anything else back. It’s already awkwardly crammed in places as is.
> 
> Oh, for those of you who remember that I mentioned my MRI in the last chapter—the results came back with nothing, which is great, but that means that I’m having bad hip pain that shouldn’t exist and can’t be fixed. Joys.
> 
> I was in New York City over the weekend to see American Ballet Theater (Misty Copeland was dancing and oh my god it was amazing) and we stopped at the Richard Rodgers on the way to the Met to take pictures. I got to stand at the stage door (although I didn’t see anyone beside the doorman, since we had to book it off to the Met so we’d be on time for the ballet) and my mom went in to the entrance and got me a playbill, which was awesome.
> 
> Peggy’s gala look is the same as Jasmine’s at the end of the Tonys, when they were doing Schuyler Sisters. Just for a visual there.
> 
> As always, hit me up on tumblr at smallinsaneone.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hospitals and a surprise guest.

It was Peggy who found Henry Laurens while John stood in a corner despairing.

“Excuse me, Mr. Laurens?”

Henry glanced up, saw that it was Peggy, and put on his politician’s smile.  “Yes, Miss Schuyler?”

“My sister’s been in a car crash and is badly hurt—I need to go home to her.  But…”  She looked down at her feet, the very picture of a scared and weak little girl.  “But I can’t do this alone.  I need John to come with me.  Please, sir?  I need my boyfriend in this hard time.”  Peggy glanced up at Henry through her eyelashes, eyes filled with tears.  “It would mean so, so much.”

Henry looked over at John, who walked over to the pair.  He had heard Peggy’s words, heard that she hadn’t mentioned Alexander at all, only Eliza, and knew that that was for the best.  If the name Alexander came out of either of them, no one was going home.

He slipped his arm around Peggy’s waist and kissed the top of her head.  “Don’t worry.  I mean, she’s _only_ in critical condition.  And she’s _only_ your sister, one of the people who means the most in the world to you.  And Angelica is stuck at work, right?  Can’t actually make it?  That means that Eliza is all alone.”

“She needs me, and I need to be there,” Peggy pleaded.

Henry sighed.  “Fine.  Don’t try pulling any stunts at Thanksgiving, though, John.”

John looked offended.  “This isn’t a stunt!  The hospital just called Peggy—you can call them back and ask if they have an Eliza Schuyler if you want.  She was actually in a car crash and she’s actually badly hurt.”

His father just waved a hand dismissively.  “Go.”

* * *

At the airport, Peggy looked around, kissed John on the cheek, and whispered in his ear.  “There’s something that I have to do.  I’ll be home soon.  I bought a ticket for myself, but I’m not going to be using it.  Trust me on this.  Tell Eliza I’m on my way, okay?  And say hi to Alexander for me.”

She vanished into the crowd, leaving John staring after her, perplexed.  He didn’t question it, however—Peggy had her motives, he was sure, and they were her own, not his to worry about.

John realized that he had to play dumb.  Peggy had told him as much as she had so that he wouldn’t worry, but he still couldn’t know anything about her self-imposed mission.  That had to be why she hadn’t told him anything more—plausible deniability.  It made sense.

John boarded the plane, still wondering what in the world Peggy could possibly have to do in South Carolina.  She was from New York, so it wasn’t anything to do with family, and it couldn’t be a friend, since John was sure that she would have said something if she had friends in South Carolina.  It was all a mystery—much, John realized as he thought about it, like Peggy herself.

Watching South Carolina fall away beneath him was therapeutic in a way that John hadn’t thought about before—but maybe now it was different, since he had something, and _someone_ , to go home to.  Regardless of the reason, it felt nice, so John curled up against the side of the plane and watched.

He didn’t even realize that he had fallen asleep until the plane hit turbulence, waking him up again.  He didn’t know how long he had been out, but they had to be almost there.  It wasn’t a super long flight, only a few hours, so it was logical that they would be close.

That assumption turned out to be correct, as no more than fifteen minutes later they began their descent. 

After landing and collecting his luggage, John headed to the parking lot to get his car and head to the hospital.  His heart had already started pounding—he knew that Alexander was alive and awake, but he didn’t know any more than that.  It could be really bad or it could be a scratch.  He wouldn’t know until he arrived.

* * *

The hospital was dishearteningly familiar.  “I’m here to see Eliza Schuyler and Alexander Hamilton,” John said to the nurse at the desk.  “In that order, if possible.”

She directed him to both rooms, and John hurried to them.

Eliza was asleep when he entered, a cast on her right wrist and a gash near her hairline.  She looked peaceful, though, so John sent a quick text to Peggy and went to see Alexander.

He heard the commotion before he was even in the room.  Alexander’s voice rose over the others, saying nothing except John’s name.  When John got closer, he could hear hospital staff trying desperately to get Alexander to cooperate, but, by the sound of it, they were completely unsuccessful.

“Alexander, sweetheart,” John said as he entered, “please do what they say.”

Alexander had frozen the moment he had heard John’s voice and was now turned as best he could to look at him.

“Here?” he asked quietly, tone incredulous.  “Dad?”

John’s mouth pulled up at one corner.  “Peggy talked him into letting us come home.  She played up Eliza’s injuries and said that she had to be home for her sister, and also that she needed me for moral support.  She couldn’t let my dad know that you were hurt, too, otherwise I would still be in South Carolina.  She’s good.” 

The staff had been doing whatever it was they needed to do while John had been talking and Alexander was calm, and now they left the room, leaving the two boys to talk.  Their absence gave John the opportunity to look over Alexander’s injuries for himself.

“Dear lord, Alexander,” he murmured.  Alexander was far more banged up than Eliza, which made sense, since Eliza’s worst injuries were on the right, leading to the assumption that they had been hit from the passenger side.  He had several bruises and cuts, bandages wrapped around his otherwise naked torso, and a broken leg.  John just wanted to climb into bed beside Alexander and hold him tight, hold him close, keep him safe, but he knew that he couldn’t do that.  Alexander had to heal and John couldn’t make that harder for him.

“Fault.  Not mine,” Alexander murmured, causing John’s heart to just about break.  He was pretty sure that he knew exactly what Alexander was thinking—that he had already caused himself to land in the hospital so many times; he had to make sure that John knew that this time wasn’t his fault.

“I know, sweetheart,” John crooned, brushing strands of hair off Alexander’s forehead.  “I know that this isn’t your fault.  Peggy said that a drunk driver hit y’all, and I know that you weren’t driving, anyway.  I’m just glad that you and Eliza are both alright.  That you’re both safe and alive.  Injured, sure, but alive.  And soon you’ll be able to come home again and it’ll be like you never left.  I don’t have words for how excited I am to be able to curl up in bed with you again.  I’m so glad that, no matter how much you tried, you never left me.”

Alexander smiled tiredly.  “Same.”  He slowly took John’s hand and squeezed it.  “Love you.”

* * *

It was a lot easier going home to their empty apartment now that John knew that Alexander was alright and that he would be home relatively soon—a nurse had told John that they would likely be discharging Alexander within a day or two.  It still wasn’t as easy as it would had been had Alexander been there, too, but at least he wasn’t in the hospital after yet another suicide attempt, or in an institution trying desperately to fight against his own mind and get better.  He was in the hospital, sure, but he was alive and he hadn’t been put there through any fault of his own, only a freak accident that could have happened to anyone.

John dropped his suitcase beside the closet and fell into bed.  He didn’t have enough energy to unpack right then; all he wanted to do was sleep.  It had been a long day—a long couple days, dealing with his father and campaign madness.  It was nice to be home.

* * *

John had been sleeping fitfully since South Carolina, tossing and turning with nightmares he couldn’t remember when he woke.  The pounding woke him from yet another of those wisp-like dreams.  He sat bolt upright, heart pounding and terrified.  At first he thought that it had been a part of his dream, but when it came again, he hurried to the door.

Peggy stood there with a girl draped in a hoodie, face shaded.  “Can we come in?” she asked quietly, looking around as if nervous.

John wasn’t sure what he was getting himself into, but he stepped aside to let the two girls in.

Once they were in the apartment with the door shut, the second girl lowered her hood slowly.

“Martha!” John exclaimed, rushing to hug her.  “I thought your family sent you away for being gay?”

Martha smiled.  “Yeah, and Peggy broke me out.  Don’t ask me how; I have no idea.  But she did.”

John glanced at Peggy and she smirked, holding a finger to her lips.  “A magician never reveals her secrets.  Now, we need to make sure that Martha’s family can’t find her again.  She’s over eighteen, which means that she can’t be forced back to them, but I wouldn’t put it past them to try anyway.”

“Yeah, and my dad will probably ask if I had anything to do with your disappearance.  After all, he trusts me so much right now.”  John rolled his eyes as Martha and Peggy laughed.  “It’s better if you’re not here.  Not that I’m kicking you out, not at all, but it’s a lot easier for all of us if I have some amount of plausible deniability.”

Peggy nodded.  “We’ll be gone in a few.  How are Eliza and Alexander, by the way?  I haven’t been to the hospital yet.  I mean, I only just got back from smuggling Martha out of South Carolina and the hospital doesn’t exactly allow visitors in the middle of the night.  I’ll go in the morning.”

“Both fine.  Eliza was asleep when I went by.  She had a cut and a broken wrist—nothing major.  Alexander had some more broken bones and some cuts and bruises.  He was awake and fighting with the nurses when I got there, so presumably he’s perfectly fine.  The only major thing wrong isn’t at all new—the aphasia, but that was to be expected.  I would have almost been more concerned if he had been talking fluently.”

“Who’s Alexander?” Martha asked.  “And aphasia?”

John’s eyes widened and he turned to Peggy.  “You didn’t tell her about Alexander?”

Peggy shook her head.  “That’s your story, not mine, and I didn’t want to take that from you.”

“You really are the best,” John told Peggy before turning back to Martha.  “Alexander is my boyfriend.  He lives here too, usually.  That’s why we have the Saint Kitts and Nevis flag on the wall.  He’s in the hospital right now, along with Peggy’s sister Eliza.  Alexander has Broca’s aphasia, which means that speaking and writing are very hard for him.  But before the accident, speaking and writing were kind of Alexander’s life, which is why he’s, uh, tried to kill himself a couple times.  But he’s super awesome and I’m so excited for him to come home in a few days.  And I’m also super excited for you to get to meet him.  I think you two will get along really well.”

Martha grinned.  “I’m so, so glad that you’re happy, Jack.  And I’m excited to meet the guy that made you so happy.”  She frowned.  “What does your dad know?”

John sighed.  “He knows that Alexander and I _used_ to date.  He doesn’t know that we still do.  He threatened to cut funding for Alexander’s medical and therapy bills if I didn’t get a girlfriend, so Peggy, wonderful Peggy, is my fake girlfriend to appease my dad.”

Martha nodded.  “Makes sense.  Wish my parents had been that chill when they found out that I have—had a girlfriend.  Not that your dad was chill, but comparatively…”  She trailed off, tipping her head.

John knew exactly what she meant.  He had gotten lucky with his dad’s reaction, as awful as it was.  He had really gotten no more than a slap on the wrist.

Peggy’s watch beeped, signifying the hour, and John yawned.  “I really need to get back to bed.  You guys are welcome to crash here for the night if you want.  Let me know when you’re going to the hospital—I want to come along and see Alexander.  If you guys don’t mind.”

“Why would we mind?  You’re still my fave, even though we’re not actually dating,” Peggy said, laughing.

“I second that,” Martha said.

* * *

John stuck with Peggy and Martha, mostly because he wanted to be the one to introduce Martha to Alexander.  The group went to see Eliza first.

She was awake this time and was sitting on the edge of her bed, buttoning a blue cardigan over a white blouse. 

“They’re letting me go home,” she explained as Peggy stared at her with a raised eyebrow.  “Alexander too, I think.  Neither of us have concussions and our wounds are pretty superficial, so they’re letting us go.”

She stood, stretching to crack out her back.  “Let’s go see Alexander.”

Alexander was also getting dressed, although he couldn’t get his jeans on over the cast on his leg and he couldn’t bend to tie his shoes or lift his arms enough to get a shirt on with his broken ribs. 

John laughed.  “Need some help there, sweetheart?”

Alexander glared at John, then at Peggy and Eliza.  He froze when his gaze fell on Martha.

“Who?”

“This is Martha.  Not my sister, my ex.  We’re both gay, so we kinda dated to throw our parents off that trail.  Martha, this is Alexander.”

Alexander waved at Martha, seeming to forget his state of undress.  “Hi.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Martha replied.

“Help?” Alexander said, looking at John.  “Clothes.  Need.”

Laughing, John helped his boyfriend get dressed.

* * *

John carefully curled up next to Alexander in their bed, running his hands through his hair.

“I missed you, sweetheart,” he murmured as Alexander hummed happily.  “It is so, so nice to have you back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, it’s really hard to keep up your desire to write when a group of fellow writers (and friends) who you like and respect spend a good chunk of meeting time going over how fanfiction is worthless and pointless and only stupid and immature people write it. Wow, I have so much motivation now, thanks. Like, we were talking about this book and the leader said “she writes fanfiction” and one guy goes “well, that’s the first problem.” And your former best friend says that fandoms are stupid and childish. Sorry, I shouldn’t be venting to you guys, but I’m mad and you remind me not to give up even when people make me feel like shit. Special kudos to Theo, who basically offered to fight everyone for me.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakfast in bed and drunkenness.

Waking up to Alexander curled around him made John’s day and he hadn’t even done more than open his eyes yet.  Alexander was back, back for real.  It was the everything that John had been dreaming of—and it was even better in real life. 

After kissing Alexander’s head gently, John climbed out of bed, pulling on a sweatshirt and heading to the kitchen.  Cooking was something that he enjoyed and he really wanted to make breakfast.

A quick check of the fridge proved that there were enough eggs for the both of them, so John grabbed the carton and butter from the fridge, the corned beef hash from the pantry, and the frying pan from the cabinet next to the stove. 

Cooking was relaxing, really.  It was easy to mess up, but it was also easy to fix, something that was comforting to John.  So much had been messed up in his life that he hadn’t been able to fix, so it was nice having control over something, even something as little and simple as food.

“John?”

John turned to see Alexander standing in the doorway, rubbing his eyes.  He couldn’t help but laugh at how Alexander’s hair was sticking up all over the place, something that he knew would horrify his boyfriend once he woke up properly.

It only took a brief glance at the stove to determine that he could afford to be away from it momentarily, so John crossed the room to kiss Alexander. 

“Good morning, sweetheart.”

“Morning,” Alexander replied through a yawn.

John smiled.  “Go back to bed.  I’ll bring you breakfast once it’s ready.”

Alexander didn’t argue, just turned and went back down the short hallway to their bedroom.

Still grinning, John turned back to the stove, checking the eggs.  It wouldn’t be long until they were done and he could bring them down to Alexander.  God, he was totally going to spoil his boyfriend.  It had been so long since he had been able to do that, so he was going to take full advantage of the opportunity. 

The corned beef hash cooked up quickly enough and John carried the two plates to their room, knocking the door open with his foot.

Alexander was sprawled over the entire bed, face buried in John’s pillow.  John laughed, placing the plates on the bedside table and sitting beside Alexander.  Alexander rested his head on John’s leg and John ran his hand through Alexander’s hair.

“I don’t even have the words to describe how much I’ve missed this,” John murmured, kissing Alexander on the forehead.  “Promise me that you’ll never leave?”

“I promise,” Alexander replied, then sat up, reaching for the food John had brought.

John scooted over to lean against the headboard and sighed.  “Being here with you makes me question how homophobia is even a thing.  I know that I live with it when I’m in South Carolina, but I just can’t understand how something like our relationship could piss people off so much.  You mean the world to me; I’d do near about anything for you.  God, Alexander.  I just wish that we were allowed to just be.  That my dad wouldn’t threaten everything that I hold dear.”

Alexander bit his lip.  “Sorry.”

“No, no, don’t apologize.  This isn’t your fault.  I’m the one who’s gay, I’m the one who fell in love with you.  Don’t apologize for something that neither of us had any control over.  Love doesn’t discriminate.  We don’t get a choice.  We fall in love and we go through happiness and tears and we fuck up, but that’s human.  Don’t apologize.  The only person who should be apologizing is my dad.”

* * *

Later that evening Lafayette and Hercules came over, bringing with them food and the movie adaptation of Les Miserables.

“It’s not the best version,” Lafayette said.  “But it’s what I have.  And they all have English accents.  But the music is good and it’s set in France, which is always a, how you say, bonus.”

“And we’re having a drinking game, naturally,” Hercules announced, pulling a bottle out of his coat.  He explained the rules quickly then passed out cups.

After putting the movie in, Lafayette collapsed on the couch next to Hercules.  They pulled the blanket down from the back of the couch and wrapped it around themself, leaning their head on Hercules’ shoulder.

* * *

The movie had everyone in tears, probably not helped by the fact that most of them were drunk.  Only John remained sober, for the reason that he knew his friends and knew that if they were all drunk something would go horribly wrong. 

Lafayette was the worst of the lot, sobbing and babbling incoherently in French.  It was unsurprising, really, given that they were, in fact, French and therefore closer to the content of the movie than the rest of them.

Hercules was saying something about the costuming, but no one was listening to him.  No one cared that much about the sewing of the French Revolution.

Alexander had draped himself over John, nuzzling into his neck.  “ _Pas mourir ... besoin—vivre_ ,” he said drunkenly, voice cracking over a sob in the middle of the words.

John laughed, petting Alexander’s hair as Alexander cried.  It was only funny because of the circumstances—it was okay to laugh at someone for getting drunk and sobbing over Les Mis, but not for anything that was actually wrong.

“Do you have cooking supplies?” Lafayette asked once they calmed down.  “I am going to make you all crepes.”

John stared at Lafayette.  “Are you seriously going to try and drunk cook?  Are you insane?”

Lafayette waved a hand.  “Insane, French, what does it matter?”

Hercules burst out laughing.  “Yes, you Frenchmen are all quite mad.  What’s that line from Alice… ‘we’re all mad here’?  I think that describes France quite well.”

Lafayette stuck their tongue out at Hercules, then proceeded to start going through the kitchen cabinets. 

“John, we have to go to the store.  I must make these crepes.  We need the ingredients.”

That was an issue.  John couldn’t leave three drunk people alone in his apartment—at least, not these three drunk people—but he also couldn’t take them to the store, partially because they were drunk and partially because Lafayette and Alexander were drunk _and underage_.  Although, with how late it was, he probably could get away with it.

“Fine.  Everyone get ready to go.  You have to behave, but we’ll go to the store.”

* * *

Trying to navigate the store with Hercules, Lafayette, and Alexander was like herding cats, or very stubborn toddlers.  John was about ready to yell at them, but they would give him these innocent looks and he couldn’t find it in himself to remain angry, especially because they were in public.

What should have taken ten or fifteen minutes ended up taking closer to an hour as they kept getting sidetracked and talking (or puppy-dog-eye-ing) John into buying things that they didn’t actually need, just wanted.

Finally, though, John managed to steer his friends out of the store and get them home, where Lafayette proceeded to attempt to give them all a cooking lesson, covering the kitchen in flour and batter while he was at it.  Luckily, though, all three were starting to sober up, assisted by the fact that John had cut off their alcohol supply before they had gone to the store.

The crepes ended up being surprisingly good, and John was able to talk Lafayette into cleaning up, a surprising feat.  All in all, it had been a good evening.

* * *

Later, once Hercules and Lafayette were gone, John curled around Alexander in their bed, trying to hold on to his boyfriend.  It wasn’t that he was scared of Alexander leaving, he was just irrationally afraid of Alexander leaving.  Of Alexander dying, whether that be by his own hand or in another accident.  It wasn’t a fear that he could explain, except that he had almost lost Alexander enough times already, so it made a kind of sense.

Alexander had stolen another of John’s shirts, still one that was too big on him, so he looked smaller than ever and absolutely adorable.  John couldn’t handle how cute his boyfriend was.

“You ready to get back into classes?” John murmured into Alexander’s hair.  “I emailed all your profs about your aphasia, so they know and are ready to work with you on that front.  I assured them that you’re going to work hard—you’ve been nonstop as long as I’ve known you—and they said that if you do the work to the best of your abilities they’ll be willing to work with you.”

Alexander nodded slightly.  “Thanks.”

“It’s nothing, really.  I’m willing to do anything to make you happy again.  I can’t fix your voice, but I can help with this.  Anything you need.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you guys have any idea how cool it is to be talking about your work in a group and have someone start freaking out because they’ve read it? I can’t even imagine how it would feel from the other side, to find out that you know the author of a fic you enjoy. So this one’s for you, Jo (also, a huge thanks for the ideas; you’re great).
> 
> I almost fucked up and used colloquialisms in this fic, namely when John made breakfast. Eggs over easy or sunny side up are called dippy eggs where I’m from. I don’t know how widespread corned beef hash is, but that and dippy eggs are what my dad makes for breakfast on Sunday and I love it, so that’s what our boys are eating.
> 
> This chapter is really short, but it was also really hard for me to write. Fluff is so much harder than angst.
> 
> I move into college on Friday, so that may affect updates.
> 
> As always, hit me up on my tumblr, smallinsaneone.
> 
> Finally, enjoy the Olympics. I’m excited for the fencing because hey, I fence.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, guys. Just a quick note.

Hey guys.  Kris here.  Just want to give you an update.

 

So it's been a year.  More than.  I'm so sorry.  I've been struggling to write this.  If you look at my profile, you'll see that I  _have_ been writing, but in other fandoms.  I have this thing where I fixate on a particular fandom, where I really only write for one at a time.  Right now it's hockey/Check Please.  If you're into that, go ahead and give those a looksee (I never thought I'd write RPF and yet here I am. Hockey is a strange force, guys).

 

I am hopefully going to finish this eventually.  I have the entire thing outlined--I didn't just abandon Eyes.  It's still one of my favorite projects ever.  I put so much into this.  If anyone wants to see the outline I mentioned, shoot me a message and I will gladly send it your way.  I just can't get the damn thing into a narrative.

 

Finally, holy  _fuck_ Hamilton is soooooo good.  Take your love of the soundtrack and all your hopes and dreams and multiply all that by like ten to get how good the actual show is.  Yes, I saw it (this past June).  Yes, on Broadway.  And yes, we already bought tickets to go see it again next June.  

 

If you want to see Hamilton pictures from when I went or talk about the show or see my outline or literally anything else, I'm smallinsaneone on both twitter and tumblr.  Come say hi.

**Author's Note:**

> “Unno kno who e tis u a play wit u kno” is Saint Kitts and Nevis creole (Alexander Hamilton was from Charlestown, on Nevis), according to Wikipedia, which also says that it means “you do not know with whom you are messing.” The creole is less commonly used now, but still strongly used in rural areas.
> 
> I used Google Translate for the French, so apologies if it’s wrong.  
> Il est mignon: he’s cute  
> Je frapperais que, si je ne dois quelqu'un à la maison. Il est trop adorable. Et il est dans un débat avec vous deux? Puis intelligent, trop: I'd hit that, if I didn't have someone at home. He's too adorable. And he's in debate with you two? Then smart, too.  
> Es-tu français? Je ne suis pas, mais je sais que la langue: Are you French? I'm not, but I know the language.
> 
> The college is meant to be vague. I really didn't do that much research for it, but some of the experiences are based loosely on my own.
> 
> The title is from Panic! At The Disco's Victorious, and it'll hopefully make sense eventually. I have plans.


End file.
